Crabs on the shore
by Ioik
Summary: Hawke and co, a bunch of OC's and a lot of adventure, romance and general weirdness. Oh and renegading. A wobbly retelling of DA2... sort of.
1. Like a crab

**Not had time to write in over a year so decided to shake my feathers loose. This chapter was never originally supposed to be, so chapter 1 is now chapter 2 and nothing is probably what you think in this chapter. Next chapter time jumps, it's basically a retelling of DA2 but with a bunch of OC's added that have there own little adventures and criss-cross now and then with Hawke and co. Also… I may be flying by the seat of my pants most of the time.**

**This chapter is referencing David Gaider's fenris short story. If you haven't read it already, go and read it, or even just watch the mini-movie.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 1: Like a crab<strong>

Fenris mulled over the tasteless stew in his mouth, keeping his eyes firmly on the wooden spoon swirling the contents of his bowl. The tavern was buzzing with gossip, laughter and the slosh and splatter of drunks with mugs but he could still sense the eyes focused on him and the unasked questions that fluttered to the tips of tongues. He was an oddity here, an elf with enough coin to rent a room for the past several weeks and to top off the creamy golden desert he had the strangest tattoos that some swore glowed dimly and the stench of something not quite dead.

As the door to the tavern creaked open, allowing a cascade of orange afternoon light to filter in, Fenris's gaze shot up and watched in almost a trance like state as a lightly armoured body came forward. A woman with dark hair, pulled back into a messy ponytail, closed the door behind her and blinked in the chaotic bliss of the room. She had a light tan one got from spending a great deal of time working out doors, so it was easy to assume she was not of the lazy guard sort; more likely a mercenary. She wore a long chainmail shirt, simple bracers and a matching half vest plate in dull silver. There was an emblem in a deep blue on the vest that looked oddly like some impish creature mocking him; an insignia of her group he assumed. A short sword hung from her left hip and a knife gripped dark leggings on her right thigh; a warrior despite her short stature and lean look. As she began her first steps across the tavern he finally noticed her bare feet, forcing his knitted brows to soften with some realisation. He double took a look at the complete package then huffed with something close to amusement. She looked wholly human but there were slight dents in that façade that whispered hints at elven parentage being involved; or maybe she was just a short human in need of a good meal and some shoes.

Realising she was approaching Fenris slumped back into the dreary consumption of his stew and faked a rather convincing disinterest and loathing to the world in general. It had served him very well all afternoon if the empty stools on either side of his person were anything to go by. Apparently the woman hadn't gotten the memo, however, and came to a stand still to his right. The stool next to him creaked and squealed as she dragged it half-heartedly back a few inches and hopped up onto it's seat, resting her elbows neatly on the bar and bracing her chin on top of folded hands.

"Aeron?" The overweight barman fluttered his eyelashes, checking his vision was clear and in working order as he sauntered in from the back room, towelling a glass with a dirty rag. "Haven't seen you in a long run. That big taut lad- what was his name?"  
>"<em>Dior<em>?" The woman, Aeron, offered up with a quirk of her brow.  
>"Probably that. Probably." He fumbled as if embarrassed or uneasy as she watched him but then instantly calmed as she returned her gaze back down to the bar. "He here or you…?"<br>"No." She shuffled in her seat and cast a quick look to her left at the white haired elf grimacing through his stew. "On a run with a merchant ship. We're just stopping briefly to pick up some additional supplies then on to Kirkwall in the morning."  
>"I thought you and what's his face got married and stopped all that."<br>"No." It was a dangerous 'no' that made Fenris miss his mouth, getting tasteless stew on his cheek, and caused the barman to fumble his glass as she ground it out; almost daring him to continue his line of questioning. "I've missed Elessa's pie."

"Oh. Oh!" The barmen tugged at the new line of conversation like a lifeline before his face sunk into a pit of sheer horror. "You're the only one in all of Thedas that willing comes for the pie. But. We've only stew today."

"_Oh_." It was such a pathetic sound she made, laced with dashed hopes and endless suffering, that Fenris found himself sympathising for a moment before remember the conversation was about Elessa's torturous pie. "_Well_, I suppose that will have to do."

The barman disappeared into the back room once again leaving Aeron to drum out a disappointed rhythm on the bar. With a great sigh, she leaned back and cracked her neck in a sickly manner before looking at the elf to her left once again. Tracing the lines of his tattooed arm with her eyes her eyebrow steadily rose like a flag of curiosity as she wondered how extensive they were under his clothing. The sounds of someone clearing their throat in an annoyed manner reached her ears as she looked up to see green predatory eyes glaring at her. She blinked and the annoyance he showed turned to wide-eyed wonder before they both glared daggers and turned to the cheer of the barman placing a bowl of stew down.

Aeron picked up the spoon and nodded her thanks to the barman as he slithered away from the intimidating pair to refill some patron's tankards. She sniffed the liquid sludge on her spoon delicately and clucked her tongue in trepidation before ploughing the food into her open mouth. There was a pause, as she tasted the lack of taste, then tried to distinguish the indistinguishable texture before finally swallowing. She hummed in appreciation as the first mouthful settled in her stomach and tucked in heartedly. As she felt a disturbance next to her, Aeron peered upwards at the white haired elf vacating his seat. There was a look of confusion and utter disgust on his face as he mumbled several words that sounded like foreign cursing and stormed out of the tavern as if that was his normal way of walking.

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><p>Fenris spent the rest of the day outside thinking, watching, listening, but most of all walking haphazard circles around the town just tasting the air. He'd sensed the unrest for some time now, the change in the wind, that particular churn of foreboding that nestled restlessly in his gut. Those eyes watching, that incessant groan and chatter of unspoken words that built to a crescendo of ringing in his ears was now at its peak. He had to go, now.<p>

It was dark when he finally returned to the inn, heading directly upstairs to his room and shut out the world. His few belongings were snatched up readily as he crossed the space and dropped out the window to the alley below. A scurry of rats squealed in terror at his landing and disappeared into hidden places and a vagrant snored damply a little further ahead among some debris.

Fenris reached for the great sword on his back as his senses opened up. They were here for him.

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><p>Amidst securing the mix match of crates and barrels on the ship, Aeron paused hearing the telltale signs of battle unfolding some ways in the distance. The screech of arrows, the clatter of heavy footfalls on loosened paving followed by the dull ting of metal upon metal. Feeling all curious nerves and ship guarding bravado, she pounced the ships hull to land with a light thud on the wood planked dock and strolled out to check for possible miscreants. It was at that moment a cloud decided to court the waning moon goddess and veil her from sight leaving Aeron aggravatingly in a dark, shadow filled world where the ocean chuckled in humourless jest.<p>

A tall, lithe shadow danced across the dock, swallowing hard against heavy breathing and heading directly towards the solo woman frowning for recognition of friend or foe. She felt it before she heard it, the sudden exhale breeze that tossed violently against her throat followed narrowly by a great blade in its wake. A piercing ring almost deafened them both as her own sword picketed upwards in a desperate motion, lead by muscle memory, to pause the dark shadows killing blow little more than an inch from it's target. There was a pause of no more than half a second, muscles straining, teeth grinding, the stench of fear and sweat almost balling Aeron back with as much force as she was sure the dark figure could physically cause. As their weapons finally parted, each darting back into a well practiced stance the moon took a dainty peek around her lovers flossy shoulder, casting a semblance of light to twirl amongst the well rooted shadows. Aeron's eyes immediately found the trail of pale tattoo's that graced the man's uncovered regions, having mistaken their slight glow as the patterning of some hideous orlesian monstrosity in the earlier darkness. This was the strange elf from the tavern she surmised and by the look of curious bewilderment now staining the fear and hate in his eyes he had also recognised her. Red orbs stared at green before being plunged back into darkness as the energetic cloud took his lover the moon a second time. Somewhere close behind the frozen pair a number of voices called out in a mixture of tongues and thudded in desperate rage as their hunt brought them finally to the docks wooden planks.

Fenris's panic immediately overruled his previous thoughts as his feet stumbled forward ready to break out into a life preserving run but a hand thrust neatly against his shoulder pushed him backwards for a fearful moment where he thought he would fall unceremoniously on his ass. He didn't however, managing to catch himself and growled a low dangerous sound at the woman that had shoved him. Aeron didn't seem to register the sound as she then threw her arm out creating the appearance of a black signpost in the night and pointed towards a ship. The footfalls and voices behind him were coming dangerously closer, he didn't have time to think it through but he knew one thing for sure; if this was a trap he was going to kill the hunters that perused him and then take his time drowning this woman.

As Fenris threw himself over the side of the boat and ducked under some loose canvas between barrels, Aeron turned her position and appeared to be staring down the dock at something unseen. As the hunters reached her, a lantern was held to the side of her face but she didn't flinch, only tutted and turned her unsheathed sword in her fingers as if in some deep thought. As a well armoured man began to growl out his interrogation she cut him off with a sweeping gesture of her free hand.

"The strangest thing just happened." She mused aloud, the hunter throwing a pointed finger up to begin his previous words again but the syllables were annulled as she instantly continued her previous reflection. "Normally people want to kill me _after _they've got to know me, not before. Strange shit for brains elves with fucked up tattoos."

"Which way did he go?" The lead hunter's pretence at being a big scary man that eats children and shits out bears was quickly replaced by a giddy boy locked in a toy store persona at her words.  
>"Somewhere down there." She followed her enthusiastic nod with a finger point towards the far end of the docks then settled down to a huff and annoyed grumble. "Probably with those damn <em>smugglers<em>. You know the-"  
>"Out of the way!" Bear shitter was back in control of the reigns as he cut her off and gave her a not too friendly shove nearly off the side of the dock and into the sea.<p>

As the group flew off into the night, taking their lantern with them, Aeron cursed several times as she stumbled about, stubbing her toe on maker knew what, and waited for her eyes to readjust to the sudden black ink of night she was plunged into. With a grumbled sigh and unrequested shiver at the icy ocean breeze she trod back to the ship and up the creaking walkway onto the desolate deck. The boat rocked soothingly from side to side as waves swayed to-and-fro against the mooring. It was still two, maybe three hours before sunrise and the rest of the world in peaceful semblance, so the aura of deafening silence coming from a collection of barrels felt unnatural like someone had taken a bite out of the universe. Not too softly, Aeron strolled towards the offending space at the stern of the ship and squatted down several paces back, just in case another sword to the throat incident might occur, to peer under the loose canvas.

"They're gone." She hummed and stood, turning her back on the lack of anybody void and leaned lazily over the side of the ships wooden railing.

There was a continued façade of nobody for a few minutes until finally a scrape and shuffle indicated the presence of a somebody. Sensing the heat erupting off his body, as she stretched out her arms with a delightful symphony of pops, Aeron stared sidelong at the furrowed brow and green eyes attached to the form propped against the railing. There was an uncomfortable, pregnant sort of quiet as the sea tickled the docks feet below them and his eyes flickered from side to side before settling back on her. He looked lost for words, like a very angry puppy that's been handed a knife and fork and told to grow opposable thumbs. Dragging in a breath he seemed to be about to finally speak when the sounds of screaming punctuated the air and drew them both to stare away into the distance.

A feint glow of distant lanterns or a fire fluctuated around a rocky formation beyond the furthest reaches of the dock. The screaming had originated from there but was now mostly grunts, thuds and indistinguishable cursing carried on the breeze. The fight was over fairly quickly and as the guiding lights extinguished Aeron found herself in the midst of a natural bout of laughter that threw her head back with its force.

"I see they found the smugglers." She snorted once some control had returned and pushed back away from the railing. "I wonder who won?"  
>"My pursuers are formidable." He frowned at the rocky shoreline, the bass in his voice causing a slight quiver in the woman's spine.<br>"Then they may have just saved me some work. Maybe I should go thank them." Her nonchalant grin froze at the stiffness of the elf besides her and then flattened into an impenetrable stare. "Why a-"

"Why did you help me?" He cut her question in two but kept his eyes firmly set somewhere far away.  
>"Why not?"<br>"That's not an answer." He rounded on her so suddenly she would have slipped off the side of the ship if his body weren't pressed so neatly against hers.  
>"Get. The. <em>Fuck<em>. Off of me."

She spoke with such a quiet danger it made him flinch as the blood red of her eyes reverberated through his soul. He took half a step back, removing the horrible pressure that pressed against her spine but kept her within easy reach in case he needed to throttle information out of her. This could all be a very convoluted trap.

"You wanna know _why_ I give a shit about _you_?" She rubbed unconsciously at the slight bruise forming on her back, where the elf had forced her against the rough wood. "The answer is, _I don't_. I couldn't give a whore soaked in piss about _who ever _the fuck you are. You could throw yourself over board right now and _drown_if you like. I'll enjoy a nice glass of château don't-give-a-fuck 9:18 over your lukewarm corpse."

Fenris wanted to open his mouth and say something to that, but his frown was now in such deep embedment of his face he found his jaw clenched tight. This woman made no sense; it was just dribbling ranting venom with no conceivable logic when added to her earlier actions. He wondered for a moment if he was poorly translating her language but that didn't seem to be the problem.

"_Château don't-give-a-fuck 9:18…_" he finally mouthed, imagining for a split second pouring a glass for Danarius and his guests.

"Look…" Aeron sucked in a lung full of cold air and exhaled it fierce and warm, reaching the elf's bare neck and making him involuntarily take another half step back. "When an elf's running from a mob the mob is not usually humanitarian. And you don't look like a pickpocket. Take it or leave it."  
>"No, I am <em>no <em>pickpocket." A dangerous look flashed past his eyes, it should have made her uncomfortable but she was apparently unamused instead. His pride a little wounded he took a full step back giving them both some breathing room before he dared continue. "They are- were tevinter soldiers. Hunters looking for a magister's lost property, namely myself."  
>"A slave." She breathed with a whisper of a question and surveyed him deliberately before giving a curt nod of understanding. "Yes, I see that now."<br>"No, you see a free man." He barked, offended at her judgement. How dare she see a slave in his place.  
>"Skin deep, perhaps."<p>

Fenris hissed at her flippant remark and caught her by the wrist as she waved her hand as if to brush off his precious feelings. Her head instantly snapped back from its previous position to glower at the elf's physical threat and then match his fury eye to eye. Before anything could be said, any move be made, the hatch leading to the bowels of the ship teetered open and a head poked out visibly catching the pair off guard.

"Aeron, Collin is on my case about you stomping around above his bunk and keeping him awake." The tired looking head suddenly sprouted a hand and swept his tangled mat of curling grey hair back into an increasingly bizarre hair-do. "Who's that with you?"  
>"Second guard." Aeron yanked her hand back from the elf's stunned grasp. "You know how Kirkwall pirates are, Cap."<br>"I-uh…" The Captain made several questioning noises as his sleep-deprived brain had an in-depth board meeting on finances and product management. "Right, yes. See your point, but I'm not paying extra. We settled a contract already."  
>"Mhm." She turned her back on the bodiless head with a shrug of agreement and waited till the thud, snap of the hatch closing punctuated the calm before pointing her fingers in a sign of rebellion.<br>"You shouldn't have-"  
>"Oh be quiet." She rolled her eyes but didn't bother facing the now brooding elf. "You need out of this place, right?"<br>"Yes, but I already owe you enough."  
>"Then let me keep your half of the pay."<br>"I'm grateful but I'm not that grateful."  
>"For sure." Aeron chuckled, turning around to face the elf again, elbows braced against the railing. "Doesn't mean much to me, anyway. I just wanted the ride to Kirkwall."<br>"You… live there?" Fenris wasn't even sure why he was interested; maybe it was the owing aspect of their newfound relationship or just the secret desire for normal socialising.  
>"Not in a long time." She shook her head, a sudden sadness washing through her eyes before being blinked away like old cobwebs. "But I figured, what with the blight and… other things… what better time to turn up unannounced on my grandmothers doorstep?"<br>"You're lucky to have the choice." His shoulders slumped slightly as he watched the distant horizon begin its first shaking steps towards twilight.

Aeron followed his gazed, admiring the fixed point before taking stock at the crestfallen appearance of the not-slave. She didn't want to push the question and he no doubt would resent being asked as much. What did anything matter anyway?

"_Ah, fuck…_" she breathed and stalked off across the ship before returning moments later carrying neatly folded blankets. "Take these, find a quiet spot out of the wind and get some sleep. It'll be very loud around here in a few hours."

Fenris scowled at the offending blankets that were shoved, unrequested, into his arms. They were rough and firm with salt, having been washed in seawater, and all kinds of unpleasant itchy. He grimaced at the thought of having to curl up with them but did as he was told non-the-less. It couldn't be any worse than sleeping in a slaves dormitory. Could it?


	2. Blowing bubbles

**This chapter got so long I had to cut it. So now half of Chapter 2 is Chapter 3 though both were originally Chapter 1. This will probably be a running theme with me. **

**Thank you story alert people! Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside though a review would be helpful too. Doggy kisses to everyone.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 2: Blowing bubbles<strong>

Garrett Hawke fidgeted under the scrutinising glare that pierced the back of his skull. The pins and needles starting from the tips of his hair follicles had been going on for at least an hour by now and were beginning to make him unpleasantly itchy. Shifting one leg off and then over the other he tried to realign his body into something other than tense discomfort, on the splinter imbued chair he sat upon, and began shuffling the cards in his hand absentmindedly before fanning them out once again. This was a battle of life and death; the odds were stacked so high he didn't dare blink, though that could also be because his enemy sat across from him with ample bosom on display. No, no, soft, warm great pillows of tanned woman-hood couldn't distract him now. Tonight's entire bar tab rode on the play of cards he was about to spring on the bored looking pirate.

_Aha! She's started playing with her earring. She's got nothing!_He practically hummed with excitement and barely constrained a crow of orgasmic pleasure. But then, that burning, prickly sensation in the back of his head gave another set of unarguably disagreeable jabs. Hawke hissed a barely audible sound of displeasure before pivoting his neck so as to singe his enemy with a dry, formidable look teeming with hidden threats.

"Carver, stop it."

"Whatever do you mean, brother?" Carver's tone of hurt was mismatched with the embarrassment and general air of antipathy that swished menacingly across his eyes at being caught staring. His toned arms slipped easily into a defensive gesture across his chest as he averted his gaze to a comely looking bar wench passing by. "Is my presence putting you off? Maybe I should go back to Gamlen's shack and help mother stitch your pants."

"You aren't still crying about earlier are you?" Hawke rolled his eyes knowing all to well his younger sibling would probably be fuming over his morning dismal until the maker returned; like with every other little disappointment. "Someone had to keep an eye out for Gamlen's debt collectors. Or would you prefer a gang of depraved men swooshing down on mother, dragging her off by her hair and doing Maker knows what to her until Gamlen steps forward with the coin he owes?"

"No, of course not!" The younger Hawke spat angrily, enraged at the sheer gull of his older brother to even suggest such a thing. "I would never- Oh, Maker's balls. There's no point in arguing with you, brother. You don't need me around, why should you when you're everything mother and father could have wanted in a son. I'm just a spare. Stuck in your shadow until the day you die and I get to inherit it. Knowing my luck you'll probably out live me when I die from boredom or a fatal parchment cut."

"Oh, now you're just being melodramatic, junior." Varric waded into the conversation with cheery diplomatic swagger. "You'll get your chance to shine too someday."

"Someday? Someday! I'm tired of waiting. I'm tired of this and I'm tired of you, brother." Carver abruptly turned on his heels and stomped from the Hanged man with such an aura of wrath the patrons parted around him like soil being ploughed. He even managed to audibly slam the un-slam-able front door, which caused several drunks to gasp awake.

"Hawke, I hope you don't mind me saying this but… that brother of yours," a steady unyielding voice topped with flaming auburn hair jutted forward with just a hint of mercy, "is a bit of a tit."

"Aveline," Garrett groaned into his mug only to find it aggravatingly bare of ale. "If my brother was any more of a tit he'd be my very buxom sister."

"As amusing as all that was," Isabela swanked a hand of defiance at the space Carver once occupied as if to signify the incident as some thousand year old battle nobody cared about anymore. "It's still your call, Hawke."  
>"Right, we were playing cards." Hawke's game face slipped perfectly back into place like a well-tailored glove.<p>

"Winner gets their bar tab paid." Varric chimed in, as if anybody needed reminding of the stakes, and Aveline groaned longingly at being forced to fold before the game had even really started. "Don't worry, Aveline, I'm sure you'll do better next time."

"Wicked grace just isn't my kind of game. Never has been." The guardswoman shrugged off disappointment like a duck shirks water.

"Maybe next time we should have an arm wrestling contest." Aveline lit up at the notion before noting the cat like grin on Isabela's face as she continued. "Give ole man hands a chance to beat me just once."

"Whore."

"Oh, sweetie. I'm flattered, really." The dusky pirate fluttered her eyelashes, pursing her eager lips in a tempting display. "But my low standards are higher than you."

"Isabela!" Garrett cut through the violent intents of the two women with a precise incantation of his voice, somewhere between amused and disbelieving, causing eyes to focus on him in a bloodthirsty fashion. "Have you been cheating?"

"What? Me?" She acted out a believable overcoming of shock and hurt as Aveline slid back into her chair without having realised she'd ever left it. "And deceive a man as handsome as you out of his hard earned, if not mostly plundered, coin?"

"That card with the bended corner, that I know I saw in your hand before is now sitting on the top of the deck."

"The one with the beer stain that looks like Andraste's naughty bits?"

Everybody took a silent moment to study the beer stain more closely before a series of agreeing noises confirmed the pirate to be correct in her crude description.

"We need a new set of cards." Varric mused.

"The Chantry might view it as blasphemy if we dispose of cards with divine intervention." Aveline tapped a beat of indecision with forefinger to clasped mug.

"Maybe we should donate it to them, then."

"Andraste's naked form in ale? The grand cleric would faint."

"The grand cleric looking at dirty pictures, I'd pay to see that." Isabela practically vibrated at the iniquitous revelation; clerics gone wild.

"You obviously haven't been in the Chantry before." Hawke leaned forward, pausing to grab an eyeful of tanned cleavage and proceeded to wash the pirates mind with honey. "All those artistic nudes and tapestries of orgies."

"I might just have to become very, _very_ devout." Isabela chewed her lip in deep contemplation. "I'm sure you could guide me to the light, Hawke."

"You want me to convert your sinful ways?" Garrett raised an eyebrow.

"Oh I don't know about that." She grinned; mischievous and alluring making him practically lose his breeches and reasoning skills with just a look. "But I could certainly use your help parting the veil."

"Right, I'm heading back to the barracks." Aveline abruptly stood up, a second scraping chair sounding as Varric moved to follow.

"I'll walk you to Hightown, I've got some contacts I need to…" The dwarf flailed a hand not even bothering to finish his dialogue.

Hawke and Isabela, having completely forgotten their card game were obviously not listening anyway and looked about ready to devour the table to reach one another. Without another word the juxtapose dwarf and guardswoman slid out into the night grateful for the sea breeze that purged their lungs of all that sexual tension they were previously suffocating from.

Varric hadn't been lying when he mentioned visiting some contacts. As they reached the Hightown market he bid the guardswoman goodnight and disappeared down a dimly lit street. The air was a little chilly, even up in the nobles well kept domain of the city, heralding the return of winter. He shrugged his shoulders, pulling his coat in a little tighter but vainly refusing to cover his ample chest hair. How could he be so cruel to deprive the world of such a sight?

Chuckling at his own musings he rounded another corner and disappeared from prying eyes inside an unlocked mansion.

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><p>"Hawke."<p>

It was a terrible, painful sound that breeched his sore ears but one he recognised regretfully as his name.

"Hawke!"

This time his name came with an unpleasant shove; or was it a kick? His head felt like it had been filled with little angry Templar's all trying to get out and smite him at once. Not wanting to even open his eyes and see what foul beast was prodding and… was that the sound of a seabird over head? No, wait… yes there it was again and the slurping sound of the ocean washing up against ships in the dock. Oh, maker, where am I?

"HAWKE!"

"Ughhhnn!" Hawke groaned in response, though if his tongue didn't taste like puke, sand and cat arse it would have come out a little more coherently as 'bugger off'.

"You're awake. Good." The demonic voice sounded relieved. "I was worried for a moment I'd have to try and carry you home. Where are your clothes?"

"Where are my clothes?" He repeated trying to fathom out the meaning of the question and dared open his eyes only to wince and hiss them shut at the abomination of light beyond the safety of his lids. Now he thought about it, things did feel a little aired out and cold. Also, several something's were stabbing him viciously in the back and sides. "Where _are_ my clothes?"

"I've found them. Well, some of them." That monstrous bane of his ears drifted away leaving him to enjoy the soothing slosh of the sea. Maybe he could sneak in some more sleep and-

"Oof!" Something heavy landed agonizingly on him, miraculously seeming to find every weak point he possessed. "My balls…"

Garrett squealed and whined like a pitiful pup, hands glued to his sensitive nether regions as he blinked the light into his eyes. He was truly naked, though pieces of his clothing now lay on his thighs and his staff… so that's what almost made him sterile. Running his teeth back and forth across his tongue he tried to clear some of the built up bacteria whilst scratching at the back of his head. It took some manoeuvring but he managed to perk himself up into a sitting position and ignored the screaming of his aching muscles in favour of finding that incessant voice from earlier.

"It's you!" He gritted out and began taking in stock of his situation.

"It's me." Aveline swallowed dryly and turned her back on him to give him privacy whilst getting his clothing back in place. "You're lucky I had solo patrol of the docks this morning. Anyone else and…"

"Big trouble, I get it. Thanks, Aveline."

"I assume you have a good reason for this."

"Oh yes, I just thought to myself last night, I'll get raging drunk at the hanged man, play a few rounds of cards, bed a pirate and wake up naked with my arse in the air on a dock tomorrow." Hawke rolled his eyes as he searched around the edges of crates for his missing boot. "All the pointing and laughing that group of dock workers are giving me was well worth it."

"I think they're catcalling as well."

"Not helping, Aveline. Ah-hah! There you are." He crowed in triumph having found his missing boot. "Maker my head hurts."

"Be thankful that's the worst of your problems." Her tone was neutral but her eyes were ablaze with scolding. "I can only keep you out of so much trouble, Hawke. You're like family to me but you need to start taking responsibility for your actions. That _woman _is nothing but trouble."

"Yes, mother." It was a very stupid thing to say whilst Aveline was in discipline mode but he found the quip too irresistible to ignore. It did, however, land him back on the floor nursing a swelling eye. "Andraste's tits, Aveline!"

"Get your act together, Hawke." She ground out his name in warning and turned back to her duties, following her designated route.

Garrett flopped down onto the ground, still clutching his swelling eye and huffed out an aggravated sound. He'd have to make it up to Aveline later, maybe buy the woman a drink or something sharp and pointy she could stab him with. For the moment he had different problems. Mother would be frantic, Carver would be happy by the prospect of his possible demise and Isabela… well; he needed to have some words with that naughty little strumpet.

Pushing his weight up off the floor, he stumbled back onto his feet and tried to shake the grog out of his ears. It was still early; barely a few hours past dawn and the docks were not yet at full capacity. At least his public indecency was kept to a minimum though the embarrassed flush caressing his neck and cheeks was still at an unbearable level. Using his staff as a walking stick, Hawke quickly scurried past the hysterical tirade of sailors and workers as he stumbled onwards to Lowtown. Rather than heading directly home, however, he ducked into the Hanged man needing an ale to help ease his hangover.

He knew Isabela was probably still asleep and neither of them would be coherent enough for anything beyond grunting at one another; though that could be fun. As he clutched at his mug of ale, sipping down the head with a murmur of deeply devoted approval, he pivoted on one foot and sauntered up stairs to stumble into Varric's room. At least the dwarf was always available for an indiscriminate visit.

"Hawke?" Varric looked up from his seat, having been reading off of some parchment he now folded and hid out of sight. "You look like shit."

"I feel like shit." He half fell into the seat next to his friend and took another long drink from his mug.

"Starting early I see."

"Technically I never went to bed, so..."

"That can't be healthy." Varric's brow rose with something a kin to amusement. "I see you got into a fight or was that a gift from our lovely pirate friend?"

"It was a gift from, Aveline." Hawke grimaced, placing his mug down as he touched his blackening eye with a hiss.

"I didn't know you and Aveline…"

"No! No! No!" He followed his outburst with a silence that allowed room for the most disturbing and on occasion head nod worthy images of the guardswoman to materialise in his minds eye before shaken away by a shudder of disapproval. "We're just friends. Friends that sometimes punch each other in the face."

"I thought as much. Not so much the face punching part." Varric blinked and his entire demeanour suddenly changed into an excited businessman about to offer his customer the greatest opportunity of his life. "Anyway, I'm glad you're here. I need to talk to you about some information I've dug up."

"Oh."

"Try not to sound too excited."

"Oh?" Hawke ventured again, trying to turn up the excitement in his voice.

"That's better." Varric settled down in his chair, making himself more comfortable. "I've found out there's a rogue warden living here in Kirkwall. According to my sources he came in with the Fereldan refugees and has been hiding down in Darktown."

"And? How does this help us?"

"He's a warden, a grey warden. They go down into the deeproads all the time. He should be able to tell us where all the good openings are."

"Sounds like you have it all planned out, Varric." Hawke slumped forward, cuddling into his ale like a child with a beloved teddy bear.  
>"And that, messere, is why I'm here." He paused, waiting to hear the sounds of snoring from his companion.<p>

"…I hope you don't expect me to just wander around in Darktown all day getting my boots covered in Maker knows what."

"Of course not, Hawke." The dwarf feigned a magnificent display of disbelief, grinning all the while. "A Lowtown woman named, Lirene, has been helping the Fereldan's. We talk to her, maybe we learn where he is."

"Hmmf." Garrett rumbled, creating a light quake to pass through the table.

"In the meantime, I've dug up some jobs to help get us that coin together."

"Hmm?"

"An influential member of the Hightown crowd has… had some letters of a sensitive nature stolen by a rival." Varric appeared bored of the job already. "Word is, however, that the group of thieves that stole the letters still have them. Holding out on the rival noble for more coin."

"Ah, can't trust a thief. When will the nobles learn?"

"Ha ha! That's what she said."

"She who?"

"My contact."

"Oh."

"Well, anyway, the thieves base is here in Lowtown. If we take care of this and bring the letters back the reward should be pretty good." Varric shrugged. "Might even get someone with influence in our debt. That's always useful."

"Tonight then. I need to sleep the raging inferno in my head off." Hawke braced his weight with shaky arms and pushed himself to standing. "We can see to the warden tomorrow, when I won't likely puke at the stench of Darktown."

"Fair enough, Hawke." Varric began pulling pieces of, earlier concealed, parchment out from their hiding place. "But Darktown tends to have that affect on even those with stomach's made of iron."

"Ughh." Hawke groaned as he passed through the door, closing it behind him and staggered down the stairs in a confused daze and out into the street.

His whole body felt like toothpicks and gelatine. By the way his stomach churned he was pretty sure a demon had conjured itself inside and was now desperately trying to escape. Between that, his sleep deprivation and the exalted march commencing in between his ears, Garrett was not a very happy mabari. Speaking of mabari…

"Oof! My balls…" Hawke squeaked out several octaves higher than usual. "Bad dog!"

"Bark!" Said the mabari currently trying to force his snout deeper into his master's crotch only to be continuously pushed aside. "Bark! Bark!"

"Get off, Bounce!" Hawke danced with his mabari in alternating circles attempting to swat the dog away. "Sit! Sit!"

"Whine." Said Bounce.

"Good dog." He patted Bounce firmly on the head as he finally obeyed, then rested some of his half-drunk weight on the salivating pooch. "Did mother send you too find me?"

"Bark."

"Ugh… how angry is she?"

"Whine."

"I'll be sleeping in your bed then."

"Whine." Bounce lunged forward and furiously began to lick the grime from his master's beard.

"Aww doggy kisses." Hawke cooed. "At least you'll always love me."

"Bark!"

"—disgusting-" A group of women passing by whispered amongst themselves as they stared at the mabari-human love display in disgust. "—Fereldan-"

"Come, Bounce. The world is not ready for our love!" Garrett feeling overdramatic swaggered off with his excited mabari in tow making the women gasp as if personally affronted.

As soon as he rounded the corner, however, all the bravado left his skin pale and greenish. He tipped sideways, elbow landing against a rough wall and tipped his shoulders suddenly forward as his body began purging his stomach of its contents. Bounce watched with fascination as his master continued to make retching sounds and gave an encouraging bark between each overture. His bobtail thumped against the ground as Garrett leaned away from the acidic stench and patted the dog's head as if trying to reassure them both. As soon as his master began to stagger away from the scene of the crime, bounce launched forward and sniffed at the bile-covered floor.

"Maker, no Bounce!" Hawke tried desperately to stop the mabari from eating the puke. "It's tainted! It's evil!"

"Bark?" Bounce paused and titled his head in confusion before grunting his annoyance and continuing to follow.

As Garrett crawled up the stairs to Gamlen's house-shack-whatever he could already feel the whip like tongue of his mother lashing at his back. No, wait… he paused his ascension up the steps to stair wide-eyed at a pair of feminine shoes inches from his face. Swallowing, he swivelled his face upwards to stare at the fuming woman wagging her finger in time with her fast moving lips. Hawke frowned, wandering whether he had gone deaf as he stuck his fingers in his ears and twiddled them until the wax and white noise cleared away.

"-do you?" Leandra finished, swallowing a gulp of air to replace all she had expelled during her tirade.

"I'm sorry, what did you say, mother?"

"Garrett." This time she pulled out the disappointed look card making her son flinch at its critical hit. "You're a grown man, you can do as you please, but you can't make me worry about you like this. You promised me you'd be home for dinner last night. It's been so long since I've had you too myself, to be my son just for a little while. I worry every time you walk out that door to go off adventuring with your friends. A mother worries even when her children are grown and since Bethany-"

"Mother no." Garrett was up like a shot, fighting through the white wash of blood jerk starting his brain from rising too quickly, to pull his mother into a tight embrace. "Don't cry."

"My little girl…" Leandra sobbed quietly into her son's shoulder as he held her, ignoring the grime that had built up on his shirt.

"Shhh, mother." He gently soothed. "Bethany's with father now. Nothing can hurt them anymore."

"You and Carver are all I have left."


	3. Walk sideways

**Chapter 3: Walk sideways**

Having awoken in the dog's bed, Garrett petted the great snout lolling across his cheek and tried to shift out of Bounces embrace. The great beast was a lot heavier than he looked, and he looked heavy to begin with. Wiggling his other arm furiously, he managed to pull it loose from the crushing grip of dog chest to human ribcage and began to shimmy himself free. Bounce didn't stir once, only continued to snore and grunt gently at rabbits in his dreams, even when he was unceremoniously dropped to the ground.

Hawke groaned, rubbing sand from his eyes now he was unbound and half crawled across the broken planks that lined the shack's floor to a chair. Pulling himself into a squealing seat, displeased at his sudden weight upon old hinges, he palmed his forehead and brushed strands of wild ebony hair with fingertips. He felt broken, physically and mentally exhausted by all the previous exertions of two days in a row but the sleep had helped. His mouth still tasted like puke and cat arse but at least it distracted him from the general stink of Gamlen's house. _Maker, the dog smells better_, he internally whined.

As he listened to the gentle crackle, tick, low rumble of the fire in its hearth he barely registered the sounds of clomping boots that could only belong to a malcontented youth. The apathetic footfalls paused somewhere further behind him, allowing Garrett's trance like state to continue in pensive silence moments longer. There was that pins and needles affect, slowly creeping up his fair follicles and lacing his spine with cold dread building up again but it wasn't that which shocked him back to reality.

"You're awake." Gamlen grunted, holding the front door open wide enough to let an endless abyss of late afternoon light in; but the stench of the place, too thick and teeming with life, beat the clean breeze back with all its might. Garrett winced at the painful luminosity violating his eyes and let out a pained moan of discomfort as he threw his arms up, giving him the appearance of a disfigured cave troll. "So, someone dropped off a message for you, it's on the desk."

"Not before he gave it a shake to see if there were coins inside." Carvers voice surfaced as Gamlen in unknown mercy drew the door closed and sent the room back into a dim orangey glow.

"I was worried they would fall out." Gamlen stuttered.

"Gamlen!" Leandra sighed, now standing besides her eldest child offering him a cup of water.

Garrett swallowed down the cold water, soothing his burning insides, and drew in a deep breath for Kirkwall's most epic yawn. Leandra fussed over his hair for a moment with an exchange of health enquiries before disappearing after Gamlen into the side room with obvious words in mind for her younger brother. Stretching his body, gaining renewed protest from the chair, Garrett rose onto sturdier feet now that he was better rested and a lot less drunk. Reaching for the innocent looking letter on the entrance side desk he briefly acknowledged Carver now looking over his shoulder.

"Another one of your jobs?"

"Another one of _our_ jobs." Garrett corrected his grousing sibling and received a satisfactory stunned intake of breath behind him.

"You mean," Carver immediately reverted to a cautious wary state of melancholy, arms pressed tightly against his chest. "I get in on this one?"

"Yes you ungrateful prig." Garrett rolled his eyes as he tore open the letter. "You can get your sword and clothes all bloody for mother to clean and admonition you for."

"But who'll keep an eye out for Gamlen's debt collectors?"

"You can stay behind if you really want."

"No!" Carver boomed with more force than was really necessary.

"Good. Bounce can mind the chickens."

"Whine?" Bounce looked up from his bed with anxious brown eyes and sat to attention at hearing his name.

"You'd like that wouldn't you boy." Carver grinned scratching behind the panting dog's ears. "You could irritate Gamlen and I'm pretty sure mother will make a fuss of you. Might even get to take a bite out of some unwanted pests."

"Bark!" Bounce bounced around, tail wagging furiously in excitement. Maybe he'd even get extra mutton tonight.

"Thatta boy." Carver obliged as Bounce rolled at his feet, exposing his belly for pampering. "So, what's the job?"

"Someone called Anso wants us to meet them tomorrow night in the Lowtown market to discuss a business arrangement." Garrett wafted the letter under his brother's nose now he was finished reading it.  
>"Tomorrow?" Carver glared at the offending parchment as if it was harboring blood mages and ogres until it was removed from his sight. "But I thought I was coming with you tonight."<p>

"You are. We have other work."

"Right. What kind of work?"

"Nothing mother will disapprove of if that's what you're worried about."

"No, I- I'm not a child." Carver began to sulk. "I've done plenty of things mother wouldn't approve of."

"Really?" Garrett was suddenly, genuinely curious. "Like what?"

"Well I'm not going to tell you!"

"Ohhh." The elder Hawke brother pouted and received a disgusted look from the younger. "Well, better run along and get your big boy pants on, sun's going down soon and Varric and Isabela will be waiting."

"Isabela? I've been looking forward to seeing her in action ag-" Carver involuntarily swallowed his words at the audible click of his brothers jaw clenching. "I'll just get my gear then."

The excitement previously cooking in Carver's pot very suddenly became frozen over by the look in his brother's eyes. He practically ran to the other room, retrieving his sword and double time marched out of the shack rather than spend another moment being marinated in awkward. _That bastard always gets the girl, _he fumed over memories of Lothering girls swooning away from him and into Garrett's arms.

As he continued to glare out, over his little corner of Lowtown, he scarcely even admitted the door behind him opening. There was a low breeze this evening, causing a wailing whistle as the air pushed into his right ear and tussled his hair. The clouds suddenly became of extreme interest as he noticed the black and gray swirls in the atmosphere. All the tension in the air was starting to cause his skin to prickle. A storm was coming.

"Should rain tonight, brother."

"Mmhm." Garrett gave a muffled answer through the sandwich-half currently occupying his gob. "Mmmm chmmm mmm rmm fmm."

"What?" Carver turned with an air of confrontation as his brother rolled his eyes and finished tucking his clean shirt in before removing the cheese, chicken, pickle, something orange sandwich from his mouth.

"It's fine, we should be indoors most of tonight."

"What are we doing indoors then, brother?"

"Don't worry, they'll be plenty of excitement for you." He paused to take a large bite of his sandwich then ushered the younger Hawke on towards the Hanged man. "We're going to kill some thieves and return their ill gotten gains."

"Out of the kindness of our hearts?"

"Exactly." Hawke paused for dramatic effect and another bite of his sandwich. "Our pockets won't mind all the shinnies they'll be filled with either."

Carver took his cue to be quiet as they entered the Hanged man and strutted up to Varric's room. The general reek of the tavern had put Hawke off the remainder of his sandwich; so he stashed it in a conveniently placed pot. Varric and Isabela were already in the midst of plans of attack when the two brothers arrived and crash landed into seats at the long table.

"You're here."

"Well don't look _too_ happy about it." Carver cut in.

"Oh, don't be so defensive, junior." Varric sighed. "I only meant-"

"He only meant he lost a good sum of gold at your arrival, sweet thing" Isabela purred as she leaned over the table suggestively, giving the brothers an eye full of dusky cleavage and simultaneously held out her hand to the dwarf eagerly waiting the coin he was counting out. "Varric bet you'd be too hung to get your arse out of bed till tomorrow."

"I'm glad to see your faith in my endurance was well paid." Hawke smirked, apparently speaking to the pirate's chest.

"Your endurance was never at question, Hawke." She slowly descended back into her seat but maintained the area of attention she was getting from the elder Hawke by sliding each coin of her winnings between her amble bosoms. "I've tested that myself. But, further-"

"Oh no you don't." Hawke shook his headed trying to reclaim his senses. "I still need to find out what happened last night from you."

"We had sex."

"Yes we- I know that much but… what happened after?"

"We had sex again."

"Do I really need to be hearing about your love life in such detail, brother?" Carver groaned into his folded arms rested atop the table.

"I'm with junior on this one." Varric raised his arms, a palm each facing Hawke and Isabela announcing an end to the conversation. "We have business to attend to. The lovely Isabela and I have been discussing how best to go about dealing with these thieves. Their base is not actually far from here. They're using an abandoned tailor's shop two streets down heading towards the docks. We could rush in, two at the front and two at the back door and take them by surprise."

"I scouted them out earlier," Isabela shrugged, as if unimpressed by what she had seen, "they're a small band, no more than nine I'd say."

"Two to one against us?" Carver chirruped. "They'll never know what hit them."

"That's the spirit, junior." The dwarf leaned forward and clapped the younger Hawke across the back. "I knew I liked your brother, Hawke."

"That's only because you don't live with him." Garrett froze under the menacing glare his brother shot at him; absolutely sure he had turned to stone.

"Right, I'm bored. Let's do this." Isabela was up and swaying dismissively to the room in general as she adjusted her daggers and left.

The others shot up from their seats and followed the hypnotic swagger, all apart from Varric who was far more interested in the grooming of his crossbow. As they departed from the eardrum splitting noise of the tavern they continued their discussion of plans and splitting of partners. Isabela and Hawke were to head into the front drawing most of the attention to them whilst Varric and Carver came in through the back way as support. Carver was obviously disgruntled at being placed on guard duty, watching the teams archer's back but reluctantly followed the dwarf as they snuck around the back of the three story tailor shop. The building was decrepit, the outer stone warn and crumbling. The windows had been mainly smashed in and sealed again with old driftwood.

Hearing a commotion begin around the front of the building Varric nodded at his bodyguard, receiving a confirming nod and teased the lock on the door until a satisfactory click of success made him pull back. Carver moved forward, trying the door but finding the wood warped and air tight against the frame. He cursed, several times then moved back and applied his boot firmly to the old wood. So much for a quiet back entrance. As the door boomed open, slamming firmly against the inner wall and falling brusquely off its hinges, Carver darted forward sword arcing through the air and slicing straight through a bandit's neck. The head tumbled to the floor first, followed second by the body but not before it managed to take an arrow to the chest miraculously protecting its killer. Carver spun to the side, pressing his body up against the wall as another arrow whizzed past narrowly missing Varric.

"Shit." Varric dropped to his knees behind a table and pushed it onto its side for better protection. Lucky for the dwarf they had entered a run down kitchen. "There's an archer on the staircase in the next room." A wail of pain audibly drown out the cursing, death threats and tinkling of metal on metal, that was filling the front of the shop, making Varric pop his head up for a second look. "Scratch that, junior. Isabela got him. Let's go!"

"I'm with you." Carver stepped out into a hallway and immediately had to block a rogue leaping at him from the corner shadows. "Varric!" He called out, holding one dagger back with his sword but having to contort his midriff and break his strong stance to dodge the pendulum like swing of the other. "Take him! Maker, take him!"

There was a flutter of air, the only warning given before the soft squelch of the bolt sinking its teeth into the rogue's tender skull. The rogue immediately fell limp, tumbling into the warrior's arms before being quickly discarded onto the floor.

"You took your bloody time!" Carver growled through several puffs of air. "He almost cut me open like a pig."

"Well, lucky for you he didn't. You wouldn't have made good bacon." Varric mused, moving towards the next doorway and taking aim at a new target. There was a whistle followed by an agonized cry from a bandit clutching at an arrow sticking out his right buttock. "I couldn't get a proper aim in such a tight spot. I had to wait for you to move a little back, junior."

"Right. Thanks." Carver peered around the door to watch his brother shout 'Have at it' before setting a thief on fire with an explosive spell. Isabela was nowhere to be seen but by the sound of it she was having fun with an enemy up stairs.

"Having fun, Carver?" Hawke called out from across the main room with a goofy grin on his face.

"Of course I am, brother." He folded his arms in defiance and leaned awkwardly on the doorframe next to Varric. "Watching you fight while I take up the rear is just riveting."

"Well, technically I was taking up the rear." Varric grinned petting his crossbow, Bianca, before sliding it securely across his back. "But that's just semantics."

"You're not still being a sour puss are you, Carver?" Isabela had reappeared on the staircase, leaning thoughtfully over the banister with a merry glitter in her eyes. "Come up here and help me loot all this great looking stuff. That should cheer you up. It always cheers me up."

"I- All right." Carver huffed, eyes fixed on his boots rather than look the pirate in the breas- eyes.

"We'll just interrogate this fine upstanding gentleman then." Varric waved the looters off as he watched the sobbing heap of bandit with an arrow in his arse on the floor.

"What do you want from me? I don't know nothing. I didn't do whatever it was I did! I swear!" The bandit continued to blubber as Hawke now began the shark circling of the damned. "Please, I have a wife! I have children!"

"How many children?" Hawke paused his steps.

"Uh… five?"

"You're not sure?" Varric chuckled, shaking his head at the amateur lying he was hearing.

"All right fine I don't have children but I have an ex-wife. Doesn't that count?"

"Um, no." Hawke rubbed his beard in amused thoughtfulness. "We're looking for some letters you lot stole from some noble. Where are there?"

"Letters? No, no, no." The bandit looked up, wide-eyed and adamant about something. "We don't have 'em. Jeremy and his boys left the gang to start their own and he nicked them along with the cash box this morning. I don't know where they've gone. I swear!"

"You swear an awful lot. Does your mother approve?" Garrett tilted his head to the side in question.

"My mother's dead."

"Our condolences but at least she won't have to mourn you."

"What? Wait, no! I told you what you wanted!"

"Yes, and we don't need you to go limping off and warning Jeremy now. Do we?" Hawke had him by the back of his hair now, pulling a knife from his belt.

"Certainly not, Hawke." Varric's expression was grim as he nodded in approval at what had to be done. This man, this common criminal, was a liability now.

"Oh, shit. Oh, shit."

Carver grumbled as he came back down stairs, arms ladled with pilfered folds of silks and fabric. A number of other, miscellaneous, items dangling from his shoulders in a make shift satchel. Isabela wasn't far behind, humming to herself as she admired several smaller, sparkly, items in her palms. She walked straight into him in her distraction when the younger Hawke came to a sudden halt near the bottom of the steps.

"What's wrong with you, Carver?" She slunk around him, disappointed at his lack of reaction when her chest squeezed against his naked arms in passing.

"Nothing." Carver swallowed back his disgust, having just witnessed his brother take a knife to the throat of a weeping captive. In the army… What did it matter? This wasn't the army. This wasn't even Fereldan. This was Kirkwall with Kirkwall rules. "Have you found those letters so we can get out of here yet, brother?"

"Sadly no." Hawke sighed melodramatically as he sheathed his knife. "Some bastard called Jeremy thieved from the thieves, so now we need to track him down."

"Oh, right." Carver headed for the door. "Let's get out of here then so I can put all this junk down."

"Hey! It's not junk." Isabela huffed, hands braced on wide bearing hips jotted to the side whilst her foot tapped out the rhythm of annoyance. "I inspected all of those items myself. Only the best pieces."

"Whatever, can we just go now?"

"All right, all right." Garrett snorted, moving to hold the front door open for his younger brother. "A round of drinks on me at the Hanged man."

"Ooh, count me in." Isabela instantly cheered and ushered Carver out of the house.

"You know I never say no to a drink when you're buying, Hawke." Varric followed suit but swiftly came to a pause with everyone else outside. "Lyn?"

"Ah, Varric and I presume this is Hawke, Isabela and… someone else." Apparently Lyn, a tall shorthaired blond woman, smiled widely like a wolf in sheep's clothing as she greeted them.

"Carver, my name is Carver." Carver frowned at being the only one left out.

"Right, sorry dear. I do try and know who the important or semi-important people are but the not so important ones do tend to be lost on me." Lyn shrugged, not taking the growling sound from the youth in anyway seriously. "Right, now where was I? Oh yes, I was going to thank you for dealing with that little fiasco in there. They've been little pests for quite a while now and well, some of us are very thankful for your dealing with them. As a sign of our appreciation we'd like to award you rightly." She stepped forward, a jingling pouch full of future drinking money carefully dropped into Hawke's eager hand. "And just to let you know, if you by chance come across any other little nuisances and remove them I'm sure we'd be happy to compensate you further. I have a meeting room of sorts in the back of the Hanged man if you can't find me at the bar or elsewhere."

"Mhmm." Hawke watched her wolfish grin transcend her face once again, his brows knitted in suspicion. "Who is we?"

"Just some, like minded individuals that wish these little gangs would go away."

"So your own gang can move into their territory?"

"You have quite the imagination." She laughed, genuinely seeming to enjoy the dark haired Fereldan's bluntness. "Remember my offer, Hawke. You could always use the coin, after all."

"Ah, wait Lyn." Varric cleared his throat and stepped towards the woman. "Have you heard anything about this thief Jeremy that up until this morning was running with the gang we just dealt with?"

"Jeremy? Hmm." She hummed, tipping her head back to look at the distant stars. "Sorry no. But, I did hear a rumor that some unlikely looking fellows have moved into a warehouse in the docks this morning. They were dreadfully suspicious looking I hear."

"You don't say." Varric and Lyn exchanged some sort of look before both smiled pleasantly and Varric produced a small neatly folded map. "Could you show me on my map?"

"Of course, Varric dear."

* * *

><p>"Who, in all the demonic reaches of the fade, was that woman, Varric?" Hawke was still frowning at the brush with Lyn and feeling queasily uneasy about the entire thing even now they were far away walking into the docks.<p>

"The godmother."

"What?"

"Just… don't piss her off too much." Varric sighed, keeping as much to himself as he felt he could get away with. "She's just a business woman. Like me."

"Well I don't like her." Carver grumbled, only mildly happier than before because they'd dropped all the stolen goods in Isabela's room at the Hanged man.

"You don't like anyone, Carver." Hawke flailed a hand; his frown disappearing and approval rating of the 'business woman' increasing now Carver officially didn't like her. Anything to annoy Carver for a genuine reason.

"This looks like it." Isabela stood outside a rusty looking door checking the map in her hands once more to confirm. "Doesn't look like there's any back passages and those windows are a bit high. Could make it to one using those stacked up crates over there."

"No, we'll just go in together." Garrett stepped closer to inspect the door and try to get a peek through the keyhole. What he wasn't saying was that he didn't want Isabela going it alone up top with no way of knowing how long it'd take the others to reach her. "Good old fashion rush of tired hungry and very pissed off anti-thieves."

"Sounds good to me, brother." Carver readied his great sword.

"On second thoughts…" Hawke teased his younger sibling before stepping aside to let Isabela coax the lock open.

It didn't take long however. Well it didn't take any time, actually, because the lock was already open. The group paused to give each other questioning frowns and wonder at the implications. Hawke came forward once again and leaned his ear against the door. It sounded quiet within apart from the occasional rustle in the distance and chorus of the ocean dancing around the inner mooring.

Gradually, he turned the handle and wheedled the door open enough to get a glimpse inside. It was dark, the little light from the moon filtering through the missing roof tiles barely creating silhouette's when added to the constant rise and fall of dust in the air.

Crouching low, Hawke slipped through the partially open entrance and began to sneak a winding path around and behind crates and barrels. The others were following close, all ears and eyes open and ready to receive signaled signs of life. As he came to the archway, leading out to a huge space towering with goods along the walls, he paused listening harder than he even thought possible. There was a sense of sound rather than actual sound from somewhere to his left. His eyes followed his senses, now becoming quickly adjusted to the absence of light and found the source. A shadow was hunched over another shadow, that appeared to be dead, and was searching for something. As if to answer the unasked questioning the hunched form straightened up, placing something into a pouch on its hip and turned coming towards the archway.

The group held their breath, trying not to make a sound as the gentle clink of light armor shifted towards them. Not noting any other living presence, but certainly multiple dead ones around the warehouse in differing condition, Hawke made a decision and got to his feet.

The shadow came to a halt, now seeing the new comers filing out into the large space and watched with a keen maliciousness. Hawke was the first to make a move in the game of statues both sides was playing and stepped into a pool of moon light near the centre of the room. The shadow followed suit, grazing the edge of the light to remain half in shadow and well out of reach if the large man might attack.

"Haven't I seen you somewhere before?" He stared at her mulling it over as she frowned, her red eyes practically— "Woah! Yeah I think I've seen your eyes in my nightmares!"

"Fuck off!" Aeron spat, literally, on the floor by his feet.

"Big words for a little girl."

There was a shink, ding sort of noise as a sword grazed past its sheath and tasted the air. Hawke's brow rose at the sound and his mouth moved to respond when Varric abruptly stepped out in front of him, arms raised in truce.

"There's no need for hostilities now." The dwarf played the diplomat too well for his own good. "We're both on the same side… sort of."

The outsider snorted in response, one arm crossing her chest in a defensive gesture while her other arm hung loosely gripping her sword to her side. They were at a stand still, one little gir- woman standing off against four adventurers.

"I take it you're here on the same job that we are?" Varric took the increasing glare on the woman's face as a 'yes'. "And I assume you've already retrieved the items? Just so we know not to keep looking, of course."

"I'm leaving now." She stated.

"We could hold her down and take it from her." Hawke ventured. "It'll be like taking sweet rolls from a baby."

"Do you really think that she's alone, Hawke?" Isabela laughed. "Look at all these bodies, there's more than one person on her team, some have arrows sticking out of their arse's and even if there aren't more in here do you really want to try pinning someone who killed this many thugs on her lonesome?"

"I can't believe this. I finally get to-" Carver started only to be drown out mid sulk by Hawke.

"We could at least give it a go. I hate putting in all this effort just to go home empty handed."

"Oh, that's right. Act like I'm not even-" Carver continued, though nobody was listening.  
>"Don't be stupid, Hawke." Isabela rolled her eyes. "It isn't worth dying over. Or making more enemies than you need."<p>

"But I need _more_ enemies." Hawke pouted receiving a playful swat from the chuckling pirate.

"I'll just be quiet then. Stand here and look pretty while you all-" Carver muttered before being yet again talked over.

"Hey, are we just letting her walk out of here then?" Varric chimed in. "Because she's nearly out the door."

"Shit! Stop!" Hawke darted forward, staff out ready but abruptly halted as an arrow whizzed centimeters past his nose and landed with a rather loud 'thunk' at his feet. "Andraste's… something."

"I told you, Hawke." Isabela gripped her sides as she laughed at the awestruck expression on their fearless leaders face.

Everyone, except for Isabela who was overcome with the giggles, immediately readied their weapons and fell into a practiced defensive stance. Eye's darted all over the warehouse, penetrating the shadows and generally treating the walls and beams like a cheap hooker on a Friday night. Not a mouse stirred however and as Hawke returned his gaze to the woman at the door he noted with a furrowing of his brow as she grinned at him a toothy smile and waved what looked like a neat package of letters in his direction. Before he was able to call her back, scream profanity or simply say goodbye, she was gone with a bang of the door and… was that thud the sound of something being shoved up against the exit?

"Shit." Hawke visibly deflated, then realized it had started to rain too.


	4. Six legs two claws

**Sorry this is so late. New medication has been making me sleepy. Also this went way over word count again. So I cliff hangered. =D  
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**Enjoy.  
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><p><strong>Chapter 4: Six legs two claws<strong>

After escaping the warehouse, utilizing Isabela's spectacular display of pantless acrobatics out a high window to then maneuver the doors blockage, Hawke and co returned to the Hanged man wet and soggy for several depressed drinks and a round of pitiful cards. Lyn was at a corner table across the crowded tavern with a number of suspicious looking individuals; barely noticeable unless you were aware of their existence. It made Hawke uncomfortable, suddenly he felt as if he could see every nefarious plot being concocted around the room and like a dwarf smacking him over the head with a hammer he was painfully aware of just how dark this place truly was. As they cruised past the third round of drinks and into the fourth, Hawke realized he couldn't stomach the atmosphere anymore and guiltily turned down Isabela's promise of a paid round.

The Hawke brothers returned home uncharacteristically early and with a somewhat more favorable relationship, though only by minute variables, and were even greeted with joint mother and doggy kisses with a promise of warm stew. Things were looking up already.

However, when bedtime finally reared its head, and left alone with nothing but inner thoughts, Hawke discovered he could no longer hide from responsibilities, concern and plans. He was a mage after all, hiding out from the Templars, with a family that needed a constant stream of protection and coin; and when it came down to it was Kirkwall any safer than Fereldan? All those choices. All those lives. His trip to the fade would not be a pleasant one tonight; he could already feel the stir of demons eager to promise him an end to all his worries.

When the sun finally rose, from its nightly visit of the other face of Thedas, Carver was surprised to find his usually lay about elder brother awake and dressed in the main room of the shack. Garrett was soberly finishing off a bowl of grey lumpy porridge with the help of Bounce eagerly licking at the proffered spoon every second dig into the bowl of contents. It was this kind of intimate relationship and sharing that often earned all Fereldan's a new line of dog-related insults.

"You're up early, brother."

"Well we can't all be carefree late rises like you, Carver."

"Oh, Carver, there you are." Leandra seemingly appeared out of thin air somewhere behind the startled youngest Hawke, disrupting him at the beginning of an epic comeback. "I've mended your shirt from last night but I'm afraid I can't get all these blood stains out."

"Uh, thank you mother." Carver was now a bright red colour much to Garrett's amusement and silent mouthing of 'I told you so.'

"I won't ask what you two were up to last night. I'm sure I don't want to know but please try to be careful."

"Yes, mother." Both admonished boys chimed.

"Garrett!" Leandra huffed, arms raised in exacerbation before slumping back down to her sides. "How many times do I have to tell you? Don't let Bounce eat dairy. The poor dear will be sick all day now."

"Whine?" Bounce licked his chops clean of any suspicious looking porridge lumps.

"You heard her boy, no more porridge." Garrett pushed the eager snout leaning on his thigh away and finished his breakfast on his lonesome.

"Whine." Bounce was utterly heart broken and soon settled down in his nest of rags and wood chippings; most of the latter he'd accumulated himself from scratching at the rotting floor beams.

"You two will have to excuse me," Leandra pulled each of her sons into a quick embrace peppered with motherly kisses. "I have some letters to write and a old friend to visit in Hightown later."

"You have friends?" Carver looked astonished at this revelation. "Here?"

"Yes dear, your mother is not always mending shirts and fussing over little boys with scraped knees." She sighed, wishing for a moment all her children had been girls. "I will be spending the evening with Lady Sybil at her estate so you'll have to make your own dinner."

"I don't like the idea of you wandering the streets in the evening, mother."

"Oh Garrett, I can't be cooped up in this place like a prisoner." She rolled her eyes with a tut before sighing into a nod of agreement. "I'll take Bounce with me. I'm sure he will enjoy Sybil's gardens. What an odd sight we'll make, a mother and her mabari."

"Bark!"

"Well that's decided then." Leandra disappeared into the side room before any more objections could be heard.

The boys had plans anyway and were soon out the front door, faces pulled into displeased frowns at their mothers appearance of a social life; that just wasn't right, life was supposed to be over when you had children. Right? _Things to do, of course, can't be worrying about mother all day_, Garrett mentally sighed and followed this up by a live action yawn.

The rest of the day was filled with collecting sleepy companions from the Hanged man; though only one answered the call to arms. Isabela had shouted various curse words when the Hawke's had banged loudly on her door before kicking a half naked man out of her room and threatening to cut soft appendages off if the brothers attempted to rouse her so early again. Ego a little bruised, but soft appendages in tact, Garrett thought better of plying the hung over pirate with sweet words and decided to let her be. She wasn't really necessary in their groups' plans anyway.

Varric and Carver now in tow, the three made their way into Lowtown market searching out a woman by the name of Lirene. She wasn't too difficult to find. A crazy shopkeeper surrounded by starved Fereldan refugees certainly drew a lot of attention. _Especially in this Fereldan hating neighbourhood_, Hawke mused.

"What do you want?" Lirene frowned over her shop counter.

"I hear you know where I can find a Fereldan grey warden." Hawke questioned, not put off by the woman's obvious dislike of him.

"Only Fereldan grey warden I've heard of is sitting on the throne. We're out of the blights path now. Why would you need a warden?"

"The healer was one of them once, wasn't he?" A thin looking Fereldan girl chimed into the conversation unasked. "A warden?"

"Well he's not now." Lirene folded her arms giving the girl a rather stern look. "And busy enough without answering fool questions about it."

"Who are you protecting?" Hawke was suspicious now.

"You see what our people face in Kirkwall. They have no jobs, no homes. Most can barely buy bread. This healer, he serves them without a thought for coin. He's closed their wounds, delivered their children. He's a good man. I won't lose him to the blighted templars."

"You mean he's a mage?" He was somewhat surprised by this revelation but at least it explained the woman's apprehensive demeanor.

"Would I stick my neck out for some purveyor of henbane and leeches? He doesn't want to be locked in the Gallows just for using the gifts the Maker gave him."

"He has nothing to worry from me."

"I suppose it isn't my secret to keep. Anders has certainly been free enough with his services. Refugees in Darktown know – to find the healer, look for the lit lantern. If you have need enough, Anders will be within."

"Well that's vague and cryptic." Carver grumbled.

"Hah!" Lirene snorted before shooing the group away, obviously having had enough of the interrogation and wanting to get back to work. There was a long queue of refugee's to see to after all.

As they left Lirene's run down shop, looking somewhat puzzled about the information they were given, a number of men stepped out of the mid-afternoon shadows brandishing weapons. Hawke didn't think twice about it, someone carrying a weapon and glaring that hard was obviously not worth talking to.

"We heard you in ther-"

"Whatever. Let's do this." Hawke readied his staff, the others following suit with their weapons whilst the band of would be thugs thought about it for a moment.

"Now, now, we don't have to-"

"You mean you don't want to fight anymore? Awww, and we were so looking forward to it."

"Yes, well, we should go." The leader of the thugs threw his hands up in surrender and backed away slowly with his men in tow.

"Well that seemed pointless." Varric scratched the back of his head with an arrow he'd readied in his hand. "Who wants a round at the Hanged man?"

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><p>After several late-afternoon drinks Carver, Garrett and Varric, Isabela was still not talking to them, went off to discover Aveline's hiding place. It was of course where she usually was after work; in the barrack being boring and writing reports. The guardswoman really needed a life outside of work and after several pouts and pleads they finally convinced her to join them on their late night mission to meet a mysterious man called Anso in Lowtown. Though honestly, she was more worried that the Hawke's were going to get into some illegal business and felt the need to protect them from themselves.<p>

As the quartet arrived in the emptied Lowtown market, there contact stood out like a sore thumb. He was a twitchy dwarf, eyes constantly darting from sky to ground as if he were terrified he would be sucked either way. Varric chuckled at the sight making some comment about how his elder brother was exactly the same when he first began living on the surface.

After a rather jumpy conversation the group discovered Anso's purpose for requesting their help. It turned out he was new to the surface and trying his hands at making large amounts of coin quickly by smuggling lyrium to the Templar's. Varric seemed the most shocked by this disclosure and begged everybody to lower their voices least the Chantry or a disreputable group like the Coterie heard their discussion. This was dangerous territory and just the thing Aveline had worried the Hawke's would get themselves into.

It turned out the smuggling had gone awry from the word go. Anso's business partners, a band of freelancing smugglers, had decided to keep the goods for themselves and not share in the profits. Smart move really, the dwarf couldn't turn to official channels for help and so here he was asking the unofficial ones.

It didn't take much of a beard stroking for Hawke to make up his mind; even with Aveline, Varric and Carver voicing un-keen opinions. They were in this now, having spoken openly with the dwarf, and might as well continue on to a pay out. _Maker knows we need the coin_, Hawke internally groaned.

The group of adventurers, most reluctant but not willing to show disloyalty to their leader, headed out towards the Alienage; where Anso had suggested the smugglers were holed up. It was pretty late by now, most everyone indoors either asleep or being quiet for safety sake. This was the roughest part of town after all and of course the elves, outcasts of human society, were forced to live in it. As they came down the chiseled stone stairs, the sole entrance and exit to the Alienage, the evening quiet was rudely broken by raised voices and a startled cat fleeing the scene of some crime.

Hawke paused, on the step before the final descent into the Alienage, with his posse flanking him on either side. There was a short woman in the muddy courtyard, with her back to them, shouting profanity at a small group of three-thug type humans.

"Come on Aeron, you know it's just business." A lady thug, no doubt a rogue by the way she pawed at her daggers, was attempting to placate their victim. "Kharis shouldn't of paid the coin back so quick. We barely got any interest on it."

"Loan sharks that don't like being paid back." Aeron circled her arms wide in exaggeration then returned her grip to the hilt of her sword. "You the fucking Chantry now, doing good deeds?"

There was a snort of laughter from the thugs, the kind filled with malicious humour.

"Listen, girl, we're gonna take what we want, like we always do, and you and your pretty little self is going to go back indoors and pretend like this isn't happening." A gravel voiced man-beast of a thug tried to throw a bit of negotiation onto the table, evidently an unusual tactic he wasn't very good at by the glares all round he was receiving. "Unless you want me to drag you to bed, like a naughty little girl, and give you something to remember me by."

"Hey, no need for that. She knows me. I can make her listen."

"Why don't you shove his cock further up your arse, Vivian, or go back home to the whore house?" Aeron spat in the thug woman's general direction. "You look like you're having withdrawals from not having sucked enough tonight."

"I'm going to end you, Aeron!"

"Shut your cunt mouth before you infect everyone with your diseases."

That was it, gloves off. Both women, thug and non-thug, were in each other's faces quicker than you could say 'cat fight'. A flurry of implications that a whore mothered each circled the space before the two women abruptly broke out into laughter; a private joke non-else were privy too breaking down the walls of enemy-hood. _Women really are the most sanity deprived creations of the maker_, Garrett sighed inwardly, tousling a rogue weave of hair behind his ear and mused at past experiences.

"This isn't getting us nowhere." A runty, rat faced thug-teen, that had been previously silently rolling his eyes and wondering when he could finally kill someone, called out for some sort of sanity. "Lets just kill the bitch and get on with it."

"The boys right." Man-beast looked to his youngest member with some sort of pride then nodded at lady thug, now returned to his side, in agreement. "Lets end th-"

There was a high pitched scream, accompanied by a set of squelching sounds, as a rotten goat's head scored a direct hit with the thug-teen's face. He flailed uncontrollably backwards, his vision disrupted by a tangle of disintegrating hide and brain matter, before tumbling off the side of a ledge and into the piss infused sewage system below. What happened next was inevitable after Aeron had successfully scored the first hit. There was a pause and silence, punctuated by the yelps and sobbing of a young man trying to climb out of a bath of excrement in the dark, before eyes turned from the pitiful but amusing scene to seek out their sides for battle.

The lady-thug, Vivian, was the first to announce her battle cry and fling a deadly intended throwing knife in Aeron's direction. The solo fighter stood her ground, rebounding the projectile with her blade before spinning around to confront the rogue woman's confusing somersaults that saw her landing to Aeron's back. She dipped low, dodging the slicing motion of lady-thug's dagger before bouncing up onto the balls of her feet and delivering a kick to the rogue's abdomen sending her hurtling backwards. It was all the solo fighter could do in order to prepare for the 'shink' of metal she heard coming for her to the right. There was a clashing ring of blades followed by dueling grunts of effort as Aeron and man-beast's swords met in mid-air. He was much stronger than the small woman and easily beginning to over power her as they pushed upon each other for space.

"Hawke, we should stop this." Aveline looked to the dark haired mage.

"I'm still trying to figure out who is harassing who here." Hawke shrugged.

"This is no time for mockery."

"Oh Aveline, why must I be dragged into every petty squabble we come across?"

"Because," Aveline frowned, arms folded with an aura of general disapproval, "someone has to."

Escaping the pinned position she was stuck in, by dive rolling directly under the man's legs, Aeron tried to reach a defensive stance before her attacker could round on her again. He was ridiculously big, too big, and making life difficult for the much smaller woman.

She blocked the lead thugs sword again with her own, only to have a elbow smack her in the teeth from her left. Tumbling sideways, she staggered back to her feet and palmed the side of her mouth, tasting copper from the inside and spitting a cracked piece of tooth to the floor with bloody phlegm.

"I'm going to kill you." She looked up at the two thugs, quickly accompanied by the now soggy runt, with hooded eyes and gave a pure burst of unadulterated intimidation.

The younger man actively flinched at the red eyes piercing him like hot needles but the other two were not so easily impressed as they lunged forward in unison. It was then a new player came into play; a flurry of burning locks shrieked in front of the lunging pair and rebounded them back with a well-placed shield maneuver. Aeron tittered back several paces unsure what was going on as eyes now darted around taking note of the others standing in the stairwell.

"What's this?" Man-beast called out as his men quickly formed a tight triangle in order to guard against the surrounding forces. "Friends of yours, Aeron?"

"I wouldn't say that." Hawke huffed, having recognized the red-eyed woman as the one who got in first on his last job. "I'm staying out of this. Only fair."

"Brother…" Carver glared at the elder Hawke's back, as it retreated to a dark corner, then quickly moved to follow Aveline. "Let's make this even shall we."

"Shit." Lady-thug was worried now. Three warriors and an archer on the stairs, this wasn't good. It wasn't worth it either. "Let's just get out of here."

"Yeah, sure." Man-beast, eyes twitching in nervousness, placed his hands up in universal surrender and kicked the runt into a forward march. "We'll just be going then. Let your cousin know if he wants to borrow money from us again-"

"Go home and fuck your mother some more." Aeron glared at the thugs retreating backs.

"What was that about?" Carver turned, sheathing his great sword now the thugs were gone, and began a line of questioning as the lead Hawke on the scene.

"More importantly what are you lot doing here?" Aeron stared them all down, sword still held out on show just in case. "We're not sharing the reward if that's what you're after."

"Reward?" Aveline's curiosity was peeked now. What had she missed?

"The other night-" Carver began only to be cut off by a moody Garrett appearing from the shadows like a specter.

"This little fox beat us to a retrieval job then locked us in a warehouse." Hawke, obviously still bitter, sniffed. "I got all wet and cold."

"So you thought you'd just stand there and watch the poor girl get assaulted by three armed men because you were feeling sore at losing to her?" Aveline was in full admonishing mode now.

"Well… sort of." Hawke looked away feeling somewhat embarrassed.

As Aveline and Hawke went into a mini argument, Carver frowning at his feet between them, Varric moved from the stairwell placing his crossbow behind his back. A door creaked open behind Aeron as the dwarf approached and she turned her suspicious gaze away to watch the shacks occupant step out.

"Everything all right now, cousin?" A tired looking, dark haired elf man inquired.

"They're gone, Kharis. Go back to bed." Aeron shooed him back to his door.

"Who are these people?" Kharis seemed determined to lurk a little longer. "They know this is the Alienage right?"

"As if you could mistake the smell."

"Or the large tree you elves are so obsessed with." Varric smirked despite the confused and glaring look he was receiving. "I'm Varric Tethras, at your service, and you are?"

There was a pregnant pause whilst Aeron looked the dwarf over, trying to figure out his motives. Kharis on the other hand was happy enough to hide behind his cousin's shoulder in amused bewilderment.

"Aeron, Aeron Vhenan." She swallowed back some of her distrust. "And this is my cousin, Kharis."

"Greetings dwarf." Kharis was now leaning on his cousin's shoulders and peering down at Varric with utmost curiosity. "I think I've seen you before in the Hanged man."

"You go there?"

"Sometimes. When I have coin to play cards."

"You never have coin to play cards." Aeron shook him off her and straightened her spine.

"But that's why you are here, cousin. To scare my loan sharks away." Kharis chuckled before yelping at the slap to the back of his head. "Ow, what was that for?"

"Getting me a bust lip." She threatened him with another slap as he looked about ready to snigger.

"All right, all right." He leaned into his door, preparing to slip away. "I'm going to bed. Scream if you need me."

"Family, the root cause of all our troubles." Varric smirked as he was left, sort of, alone with the red-eyed woman.

"Urgh, you can say that again." She palmed her face, wincing as she placed pressure on her clotted lip and beginning of a bruise. "Now, why you lot here in our neighborhood? It's usually never good when non-elves are down here."

"I promise it's nothing to untoward. We're just here to sort out a little problem a client of ours is having with smugglers that have taken up nest in your, neighborhood."

"Smugglers?" She leaned back against a shack wall, eliciting creaking noises at her weight, and began thinking deep thoughts. "There's been something strange going on in the house just over there." She pointed to an abandoned looking building. "If I'd known they were smugglers they'd of been out on their arses the moment they stepped foot in the Alienage."

"What's that you're talking about?" Hawke had swaned over, having been eavesdropping whilst Aveline was scolding and eager to get away from the guardswoman. "You know where the smugglers are?"

"Hawke, I haven't finished talking to you." Aveline growled but soon followed to listen to the groups chatter.

"Aeron here thinks our mark has taken up residence in that building." Varric pointed it out to them, all eyes following his indication like school children in the throws of education.

"Good job, Varric." Hawke patted the dwarf on the back, ignoring the scowling woman whom had really brought the information to the table.

"Where are my manners?" Varric quickly changed the subject onto pleasantries. "Everyone this is Aeron Vhenan, who most of you have met before. You remember Hawke and Carver and this is Guard-captain-"

"Not yet." Aveline corrected the hosting dwarf.

"Soon to be Guard-captain," he amended, "Aveline Vallen."

"Charmed I'm sure." Aeron rolled her eyes giving a mockery of a curtsy with crossed arms. "But we have smugglers to clear out."

"I'm sorry I think I just hallucinated." Garrett glared like sunlight hitting a mirror; enough to blind. "We? There is no we, girl."

"Elf… Alienage… that makes this my town."

"You're clearly not an elf."

"Closer than you'll ever fucking be."

"Watch your mouth, girl."

"Call me girl again. I dare you."

"Now, now." Varric practically threw himself between the pending battle. "I'm sure there's a way we can all get what we want without additional bloodshed. Come on Hawke, pissing off the elves isn't good for business."

"But she's not an elf and she's not coming with us."

"Human… elf. You all look the same to me down here."

"Varric's right Hawke." Aveline eyed the other woman up and down; evaluating. "Let her help if she thinks she can. What harm can it be having an ambassador to the elves with us? Stop that!"

"Stop what?" Hawke quickly stopped his soundless mimicking of the guardswoman.

"You know what you were doing, Hawke."

"Right, yes. Let's get on with this then." Hawke cleared his throat and straightened up into his 'I am the leader' posture. "Where's that Aeron girl gone?"

"She went in after the smugglers whilst you were pretending to be Aveline." Carver stared off at some spot in the distance, like he usually did when everyone was talking around him yet not too him.

"Shit!" Hawke ran for it, trailing his companions and burst in through the lockless shack door.

As he hurtled to a stop within the derelict building, narrowly dodging three bodies piled on the floor evidentially having been taken by surprise, Garrett summoned a spurt of lightening in his hands and followed it through with his staff into a nearby combatant about to cleave Aeron from behind. The fight that ensued was rather bloody and cramped within the small hovel rooms; and what a mess of elbows.

The sword-wielding warriors were forced out of their comfort zones, unable to swing their weapons from fear of hitting a friendly. Aveline switched to using her shield like a club, grunting with effort as she brought an armored smuggler to his knees, whilst Carver and Aeron relied on fisticuffs. Even Garrett was a bit pushed as he tried to keep his spells to the less radiating kind. Varric on the other hand had come in and immediately walked out of the building again not wanting to get involved.

When it was finally over everyone shared a joint sigh of relief. With that kind of close combat there was sure to be a few extra bruises for all tonight; except Varric.

"What do you think you were doing?" Hawke was fuming and sweating profusely; two things he hated above all. "Running off like that! You could of gotten yourself killed! I… I… I am so disappointed in you!"

"What did I do?" Carver answered in automatic response to berating from his elder brother.

"Not now, Carver." Hawke continued to give his greatest reprimanding look of all time to the not-elf-elf woman.

"Do I know you?" Aeron tightened her arms across her chest. "Are we related? Do I work for you? What makes you think I give a sack of piss soaked harlots about your disappointment in me? Your smugglers are dead, so why don't you retrieve whatever you were sent to get and get the fuck out of my town."

"Bitch." Hawke mouthed as he pushed pass her to a chest at the corner of the room. Sadly it was as empty as the smugglers corpses. "… Girl?"

"Arseface?"

"Oh that's mature." Garrett rounded on the red-eyed woman intimidating her enough to make her back up a couple of paces. "This chest is empty. Have you been sticking your grime covered fingers in my pie again?"

"Did your mother drop you on your head as a child?" Aeron steeled herself not liking the wild look on the man's face and the close proximity of his companions.

"Hawke," Aveline to the rescue, "it doesn't make sense. Think about it. She didn't even know they were here until we came. How could she have possibly taken the lyrium-"

"Lyrium? You're lyrium smugglers?" Aeron's eyes went wide with fear. "Fuck me… _fuck me_… the Coterie will torch this place. Or the Chantry. Creators… _shit_."

"Calm down. We're not lyrium smugglers." Hawke backed off, finding the woman's sheer panic utterly believable. "They were." He indicated the corpses on the ground with a flail of his hand.

"But, if the goods aren't here? Where could they be?" Carver strained his forehead with thinking. "Something doesn't feel right here."

"I agree." Aveline nodded her accord.

"Hmm, I suppose we'll just have to go back and tell Anso we couldn't complete the job." Hawke sighed. "We'll be getting out of your hair then, girl. No need to thank us for killing the smugglers and saving your 'town' from the Coterie's burning wrath."

Aeron clenched her jaw, causing her right eye to squint at the pressure she was placing on her facial muscles to stop from growling out some tirade of vile terminology. It wasn't worth it. He wasn't worth it. _Two toned sack of scum filled, piss drinking, dog loving, cunt faced, lord of all the faeries, smeg smelling man_, she practically hummed with the pure venom she was thinking.

"What was that?" Carver spun around and dragged his great-sword free at the sounds of shouting outside.

"That sounds like Varric." Aveline rushed forward and exited the building with the others in tow; including Aeron eager to check on the commotion.

Back in the Alienage courtyard, Varric was surrounded and backed into a corner by a large group of armored men. He was fending them off as best he could but armed only with a crossbow against swords had to really give his short legs a workout as he attempted to duck and weave blades.

Aveline was the first to his aid, ploughing through most of the enemy with her shield and knocking them about like bowling pins. Next was Carver leaping into action with a thrust and swing of his heavy sword, effectively mopping up what Aveline missed. Garrett hung back, out of reach from the dangerous battleground and began a series of fantastical spells to effectively keep things on an even plain and slow the remaining horde in order for the two warriors to parry and strike the killing blows. All in all it was a lot more action packed and fun than the fiasco in the shack. Even Aeron seemed to be enjoying herself, as she worked with Hawke, keeping stray warriors and the odd rogue from sneaking up on the mage.

"HAVE AT IT!" Hawke crowed as he narrowly dodged a wall of ice from impaling him and quickly spun his staff in a well-practiced arc cracking it over a rogue's head and simultaneously tossing a fireball directly into an enemy mage's chest.

There was a howl and scream as the mage caught fire and danced around in a circle, trying to put his robes out, as Aeron darted forward ending his too short life. As she pulled away, wiping her sword casually on a dead man's tunic, she looked around at the others panting from the exertion and reformed their tight knit group now the danger had passed.

"I told you something didn't feel right." Carver was brooding with disapproval.

"Yes, yes." Hawke shrugged him off to turn a corpse over with his foot. "But who are they? This doesn't seem like a simple smuggling ring."

"They're covered in tevinter symbols." Aeron stared solemnly at the corpse between her and the mage. "Looks like slave hunters."

"Tevinter slavers? Here?"

"I've heard reports about slavers in the wounded coast and surrounding areas." Aveline sighed. "Never thought they'd be this bold. To come into the city."

"Well it is the Alienage." Aeron sniffed. "Not like any of you guards notice a few elves going missing."

"That's not fair." Aveline seemed hurt but also resigned to the fact there was perhaps truth in the other woman's words. "We try our best but there is only so much the guard can do. But, perhaps I can arrange some additional patrols this way when I am fully instated as guard-captain."

"What good would that d-"

"I don't know who you are, friend, but you made a serious mistake coming here." A rather ugly looking, bug eyed, slaver sauntered down the stairs into the Alienage as if he owned the place. "Lieutenant I want everyone in the clearing now!"

"Captain…" Apparently the slavers Lieutenant gurgled out as he staggered into sight, pouring blood all over the place, before dropping dead.

"Your men are dead and your trap has failed." This time it was a white haired, strangely tattooed, elf strutting down the stairs and passing the slaver as if he were nothing worth the time. "I suggest running back to your master while you still can."

"You're going nowhere slave!" The slaver came up behind him, latching onto the elf's shoulder.

Bad move. Especially as the elf's tattoo's began to glow a brilliant bright blue right before he pivoted gracefully on the balls of his feet and lunged his hand through the slavers chest as if there was no skin and ribcage protecting him. The man stared at the elf in pained surprise, attempting to gasp for air that would never reach his lungs, before watching his own heart be removed with a sickening squelch. Everyone agreed later this was probably the most revolting sound they had ever heard and would haunt their nightmares.

"I am not a slave!" The elf growled as the now lifeless body of the slaver slid effortlessly to the floor.

Exhaling he looked up, as if noticing the group of adventurers for the first time and seemed to actively calm. His demeanor changing to one of curious suspicion as apposed to rage and disgust.

"I apologies." The elf man seemed uncomfortable but hiding it well. "When I asked Anso to provide a distraction for the hunters I had no idea they'd be so… numerous."

"I take it these men were looking for you." Hawke was stone faced, internally fighting the urge to puke at the sight of the human heart casually discarded on the floor.

"Correct. My name is-"

"Fenris." He was startled at hearing his name spoken by a voice not his own but even more so when the female voice accompanied it with her fist lodging unexpectedly into his face.


	5. Hard shell

**Too tired to edit the last scene so I apologise for mistakes.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 5: Hard shell<strong>

There was pain, followed by the world slipping out from under his feet, before he was returned to Thedas. The wind was knocked out of him so suddenly his eyes saw nothing but burning white and a heavy pressure slammed onto his chest cutting off his attempts to breath again. Fenris was lost for what felt like an eternity; unable to remember what had occurred before but instinct knew exactly what to do. His hand flew up, tattoo's igniting with acquired magic, and snuck through the armored defenses of a body resting atop him.

There was a stifled shriek, followed by gagged retching sounds, as his eyes and senses cleared; though the ringing in his ears was still adamant. He could smell the fear now and see the red-eyes of pained confusion as Aeron stared blindly at the hand inside her stomach. Recognition dawned on him fast enough to pause his desire to squeeze on internal organs but it was rather the arms of a flame haired human woman that saved her from his retaliation.

"Are you all right?" Aveline fussed over the not-elf-elf woman she'd pulled free from the definitely an elf man.

"Ah…." was all she was able to squeak out, trying desperately to roll into a fetal position but halted from escape by the guard's hands checking her over.

"You need to stop sticking your hands in people." Hawke shuddered at the thought of the elf inside him, and quickly moved away from Aveline and Aeron; whom had started to puke up her guts in retaliation.

"She attacked me and I reacted." Fenris frowned, dusting himself off as he stood. "Aeron, are you hurt?"

"You were inside me!" Aeron was back to fuming now her stomach was empty. "That's no small thing!"

At that Carver broke out into hysterics quickly followed by Varric and had to distance themselves until they calmed down. Even Garrett was biting back the desire to snigger but Aveline's warning glare held him firmly in place as she rubbed the red-eyed woman's back.

"I apologies." Fenris sighed, pushing his tongue against the inside of his cheek to test the damage the punch had caused. "But you should not have attacked me."

"And why not?" Aeron spat back, fighting against Aveline's grip on her waist to reach the elf a second time. "You bring slavers into the place my family live, placing them in danger, and think you're a saint? Don't even get me started on what you did before."

"What did he do?" Aveline was interested now.

"You said you had no need of the coin. That you took the job to get to Kirkwall." Fenris glowered, but the signs of guilt were now evident. "I did not think you would mind."

"Didn't think I'd mind?" Her voice shot into a high pitched shrill. "You stole my pay after I rescued you and left me at the docks with no way of paying the entry tax. I had to cut a deal with Lyn Reid. You got me stuck in servitude for the next three years!"

"Wait, did you say Lyn Reid?" Hawke felt the inkling of a notion striking hot pokers into his brain. "You don't mean that blond haired, creepy woman that hangs out in the back of the Hanged man and offers people money to kill rival gangs?"

"Um… that does sound like her." Aeron rolled her eyes. "But what has that got to do with this… prig?"

"I will make it up to you if I can." Fenris tried again.

"If you can? _If you can!"_

"So you're in league with criminals then?" Detective Hawke was back on the case.

"I am not in league with anyone!" Aeron was starting to get hysterical. "Why are you all picking on me?"

"We're not." Aveline sighed, raising her hands in an attempt to show non-aggressive intentions. "We just need to know all the facts."

"Enough!" Carver interrupted, feeling somewhat annoyed by the entire proceedings of the night. "Don't we have things to do or were we planning on standing out here all night bickering like old women?"

"Carver's right." Hawke couldn't believe he just said that; agreeing with Carver, did wonders never cease. "I take it everything Anso said was a lie then?"

"Not everything." Fenris hopped from one foot to the other, visibly more relaxed now the conversation had moved on. "Your employer was simply not who you believed. These men," he waved a hand at the corpses lining the floor, "were Imperial bounty hunters seeking to recover a magister's lost property, namely myself. They were trying to lure me into the open. Crude as their methods were I could not face them alone. Thankfully, Anso chose wisely."

"That seems like a lot of effort just to find one slave."

"It is." There was a pause where Hawke expected to hear more but received a mute look instead.

"Does this have something to do with those markings?" Hawke pointed out the swirls of blue on the elf's arms.

"Hm, yes." He chuckled. "I imagine I must look strange to you. I did not receive these markings by choice. Even so, they have served me well. Without them I would still be a slave."

"If they were really after you then I'm glad I helped." There was a clearing of throats behind Garrett, which made him amend his statement. "We are glad we helped."

"I have met few in my travels that have sought anything more than personal gain. If I may ask," Fenris raised a brow in question, "what was in the chest? The one they kept in the house?"

"It was empty."

"I suppose it was too much to hope for. Even so, I had to know."

"You were expecting something else?" Hawke keened his head to the side hoping to get an answer.

"I was, but I shouldn't have." He started to pace. "It was bait, nothing more."

"I see. Well you didn't need to lie to get my help."

"If you hadn't of robbed me you could of asked for mine." Aeron butted in.

"That remains to be seen." The tattooed elf leaned over the dead Captain's body and started searching his pockets for something. Finally he came forward with some parchment that he quickly handed off to Garrett.

"I can't read this…" Garrett frowned at the strange symbols as Aeron snatched it away.

"It's in Arcanum." Aeron scrunched up her features attempting to poorly translate a language she hardly knew. "Something about a 'Danarius' wanting slaves or a slave or something and to bring wine to the 'White flower mansion'?"

"It's as I thought, my former master accompanied them to the city. I know you have questions but I must confront him before he flees. I will need you help."

"It sounds like you intend to do more than just talk." Hawke was skeptical now.

"Danarius wants to strip the flesh from my bones and has sent so many hunters that I've lost count." Fenris returned to pacing, his anger getting the better of him and causing his muscles to visibly tighten. "And before that he kept me on a leash like a qunari mage. A personal pet to mock qunari custom. So, _yes_, I intend to do more than just talk."

"If it means fighting more slavers I'll-" There was that universal clearing of throats again. "We'll help you."

"I will find a way to repay you. I swear it." The ex-slave looked around the group of adventurers with a nod of appreciation. "But we must enter before morning."

* * *

><p>"DANARIUS I AM COMING FOR YOU!"<p>

"If you were going to just announce our sneaky back door attack why didn't we just go in through the front?" Hawke sighed as the tattooed elf continued to rant and rave loudly in his ex-masters kitchen. Proclaiming to all around their bands exact location. "We could of saved all this trouble and just sent them a note telling them we were popping around for tea and murder in a bit."

"He's an idiot slave that doesn't know any better." Aeron grumbled. "What do you expect from something so rabid and possibly inbred?"

"DANARIUS CAN YOU HEAR ME! YOUR PETS CANNOT STOP US!"

"You obviously hate him and yet you are here." Aveline cocked an eyebrow at the other woman, making some attempt to figure out her motives. "Helping him?"

"Yes well…" Aeron sniffed and instantly became fascinated with a group of Shades that popped up from the ground like startled rabbits in an earthquake. "Come and get some!"

Aeron charged forward, instantly regretting the move as she stepped on a pressure pad triggering a fiery trap just as Varric was shouting out a rogue warning. Fire spewed out of some hidden recess as everyone threw themselves out of the way and immediately were set upon by the Shades. Varric went straight to work; disarming the activated trap to give the group back the scorching side of the room so there fighting space would not be as cramped. Hawke and Fenris seemed to be in their element, however, as they both wielded there forms of owned and borrowed magic's to send the demons back to the fade.

Carver, on the other hand, had started swinging round rather wildly with his great sword; much to Aveline and Aeron's alarm as they both ducked behind the guardswoman's shield for cover. The younger Hawke was in somewhat of an angry panic at the black, soulless creatures surrounding him with vicious claws and bloodcurdling groans. The fact the darkened room was flashing between luminous blue and red, as fiery trap and mage spells danced the shadows like a disco party, really wasn't helping the situation.

Finally, Fenris tore through the last Shade as Garrett calmed is sibling and Varric ,in his fashionable lateness, brought the firetrap to a still. Aveline and Aeron shared a well-needed sigh as they disentangled from the corner they had held up in and rejoined their companions. The quiet before the next storm was short lived, sadly, as Fenris was off again, ranting and raving in bloodlust.

"He sends spirits to do his fighting for him." Fenris growled, his lips upturned in a disgusted grimace as he swaggered off through some door and into the mansion's huge lobby; great sword raised in defiance.

"Fenris!" Hawke called after the crazed elf but nothing seemed to deter him from going forward.

The others gave chase, following the tevinter swearing and demonic groaning punctuated occasionally by the crash and chink of a sword in the throws of battle. The lobby was ice cold, despite all the lanterns and candles burning furiously enough to light the high ceilinged expanse and echoed giving the Shades soul shattering calls the impression of increased power. That was the final straw for Carver, as he mastered the shivers of fear causing his spine to ache and focused it instead into a rallying call that shocked all around him into a confident frenzy.

The adventurers charged as one, even Varric getting caught up in all the excitement before realizing he needed to pull back and let Bianca, his crossbow, do her thing. Carver took lead, his sword held straight with hilt pressed to his chest as he ran a Shade right through taking a moment to stare into its lifeless eyes and greet his terror with unadulterated fury. As the Shade crumpled and faded back to its realm it was left with such a sense of dread it made sure to tell all the other demons never to cross that particular human.

The battle raged on; swords danced, spells flew and shouts and groans of indignation could be heard like a demolition site going off. Suffice to say, it was very, very loud in there and everyone's ears stung. With Carvers rally beginning to fade from their senses, and exhaustion setting in, the group was finally beginning to succumb to the Shades blows. Hawke tried his best with the limited healing spells in his inventory but they needed to end this soon or he'd be out of mana and the lot of them out of luck. Check mate.

Hawke sent another wave of healing in Fenris's direction, the elf ignoring the act with a great deal of effort as he slew another Shade only to have it replaced with two more. As the mage paused to regain his strength back, from continuous healing, he became suddenly aware of the temperature in the room rising.

"Oh shit." He closed his eyes, using his mage senses to feel out the burning presence. There it was. "Aveline!"

"What is it Hawke?" The red head deflected a Shades attack with her shield whilst cutting down a second with her sword. "I'm busy."

"I can see that but there's a bloody big rage demon right behind you."

"What? Where?" Aveline shoved a third Shade back and looked behind her not seeing anything. "I don't see any- Maker…"

"Carver! We need to take care of the boss." Hawke scrambled past several Shades to reach his brothers side. "It's bringing all the Shades to our world."

"I'm with you, brother!" Carver arced his blade bringing down two enemies in one blow before following the staff twirling mage.

"Varric, suppress the main group!"

"Will do, Hawke." Varric wiped the sweat building on his brow before setting off a barrage of arrows that soon rained down on a new swarm of demons. "Bianca, that was beautiful." The lovesick dwarf planted a tender kiss on his bow and quickly reloaded for round two of their flirtation.

Hawke dived in, staff held around his back and his free hand palm out shooting a continuous stream of ice into the rage demons burning aura. The lava like demon cried out in pain before disappearing into the floor where it had previously been hiding and left the mage and Carver to spin around wildly searching for it.

"Where is it?"

"Calm down, Carver." Hawke closed his eyes again and sought out the demon's presence. It was masking itself now, hiding amongst the Shades auras but it shone much brighter than them. "Over there! Aeron dodge!"

"What?" Aeron didn't even look around; she was too busy playing with an angry Shade that was having a tantrum after she stabbed it a couple of times in the back. Once she felt her feet beginning to heat up however she screamed like a little girl at the pool of flames below her and ran forward taking her Shade friend with her like a kebab on the end of her sword. "What in the creators names is that?"

"Rage demon." Hawke stormed over all heroic with his dark hair swirling from his swift movements. "Help Varric. I'll take care of this!"

"You tit." Carver muttered behind his posturing brother's back and nimbly dispatched the Shades attempting to mob Hawke as their master screamed from the mages frost attacks. "Finish it all ready."

"I'm trying you prig!" Hawke was getting flustered; he'd never faced a demon as strong as this one, not alone at least. "Help me! I can't hold it much longer!"

"There's too many!" Carver was sweating like a fat Orlesian noble now, his blade a blur as it swung around fending off Shade after Shade after Shade. The others weren't fairing any better as Shades began to pour out of every surface. "Brother! End it!"

"It's too strong!" Hawke screamed as the rage demon clawed at his arm burning his clothes and charring the skin beneath. He couldn't keep dodging fireballs and molten claws like this. "I need mana!"

"Oh shit." Carver began a volley of curses as he realized the direness of the situation now the mage was useless.

"I stand for all!" Aveline declared in a battle cry as she rushed shield first at the rage demon. The demon tried to stop her with a series of fireballs but all were deflected off the templar shield as if pebbles until finally the courageous guardswoman connected fully with the abomination and rammed it full speed into the stonewall. "You will not have them! You will not!" She panted, repeatedly beating the creature into the wall until it stopped moving and disintegrated.

All the Shades in the room groaned loudly as they too seemingly evaporated to maker knew where. There was a collective sigh of relief heard around the room as the adventurers bent over leaning on knees or dropped tiredly to the floor. Even Fenris was too tired to rush off on his own again and instead took to sitting on a staircase.

"Maker Aveline…" Carver was watching the guardswoman with hero worship written all over his face.

Aveline on the other hand was too busy swearing and throwing her shield from her arm. Her late husbands shield was glowing dimly orange with steam rising from it in great waves obviously having been superheated from such close proximity to the rage demon. Hawke darted forward when he realized what was going on and how the guardswoman cradled her arm.

"It's nothing." She lied.

"Then let me see." Hawke fussed over the defensive warrior and pried her shield arm from where she was hiding it. Gently he peeled off her gauntlet as she bit her lip and hissed in pain. "Aveline…" It wasn't pity in his voice but a sorrow filled gratitude as he looked over the burned and blistered flesh; having been cooked by the shield and then her burning gauntlet as it too heated. "I'm no great healer, Bethany was always the one to mend cuts and bruises, so please forgive the pain I may cause."

She watched him with a serious look then nodded her head to let him know she was ready for the unpleasant healing spells he was about to utilize on her. It was better than the alternative; being useless for weeks maybe even months whilst she waited to mend naturally.

"That was intense." Varric groaned as he checked for bruises. "Bianca got a ding. Lets not do that again."

"Knowing my brother…" Carver started then trailed off with a shake of his head spreading droplets of sweat that had accumulated in his hair. "You handled yourself pretty well elf."

"As did you." Fenris got to his feet and stared longingly up the stairs to the door hiding his quarry. "I did not expect this. He must fear me far more than I ever realized."

"And with good reason." There was a scrapping sound as Aeron stuck her sword into the tiled floor and leaned her weight on the blade to rise from her knees. "You fight like the inevitable swing of death."

"I…" He cleared his throat, unsure of the compliment especially when coming from someone who was possibly an enemy of sorts. "We should hurry. Danarius will be preparing his next move and I do not wish to delay."

"Brother?" Carver called to his occupied sibling. "Hurry up."

"Yes mother." Garrett chuckled at the annoyed look on his brothers face then helped retrieve Aveline's shield for her while she put her gauntlet back on. "Can you go on?"

"I will not let you down." Aveline nodded, taking her shield back eagerly as Hawke took to leading the others upstairs. "Thank you Wesley. You protect me even now." She quietly thanked the man who was once her husband in life and chased after the group.

As they reached the top floor a spray of dead soldiers were sprinkled here and there across the floor. Something otherworldly had killed them, if the bite marks and melted armor were anything to go by. This did not deter Fenris, however, as he stormed to the closed door and kicked it open with enough force to splinter its middle.

"DANARIUS!" He bellowed and began searching the large bedroom. "Danarius?"

"Um… it's empty." Hawke raised a brow in wonder at the empty room lined with loot.

"I can see that!" Fenris spat; clearly annoyed by the mages statement of the obvious. "Gone. I had hoped… no, it doesn't matter any longer." He sighed, shoulders slumping in defeat as he sheathed his weapon. "I assume Danarius left valuables behind. Take them if you wish. I… need some air." And with that the elf was gone, walking from the mansion without a backwards glance.

"He did just say we can have all this loot right?" Hawke was suddenly giddy like a child in a sweet shop.

"I believe he did, Hawke." Varric joined the mage in his grin of ecstasy.

"Good." Hawke shared a look with the dwarf a moment before they both darted towards the chests giggling like schoolgirls.

"Maker save me." Aveline sighed as she watched the two little boys fighting over treasure. "Where are you going?"

"Home." Aeron shrugged with a tired yawn and wave.

"Keep safe." Aveline watched her go then turned to Carver who was frowning. "I'm sure she wouldn't mind you walking her home."

"What? I…" He was suddenly flustered. "She can take care of herself."

"Of course." Aveline allowed a small smile to escape.


	6. Rock pool baby

**Chapter 6: Rock pool baby**

Aeron shot awake in her cramped dusty bed, various shapes digging into her muscle tight body as she rubbed vigorously at her eyes and sweat drenched forehead. She was panting in post-dream confused fashion but with that which had awoken her now departed a steady rhythm quickly resumed. _That bloody dream again, _she internally growled trying to forget the hands and tongue lapping at her skin.

Getting out of bed she sighed from her room and into a hallway with an alcove that also doubled as a bathroom slash toilet. She found a bucket of almost clean water besides a closed manhole covering and immediately set to a basic wash session to reach a reasonable hygienic level.

"Don't use all the soap, girl." A booming voice called out from the end of the hall. "That's the last cut."

"I'll get some more."

"Can't stand that shem soap."

"Well it's that or nothing, grandma."

"You know it makes me sneeze and I come out in hives." Grandma gave a disdainful sniff. "You better eat your breakfast before it gets cold. I am not making more."

"I would but I got to go." Aeron appeared in the shacks main room, fastening her sword belt in place and trying to avoid the disapproving look on the elder elf's face. "I should be back for dinner."

"Oh aye." Grandma was settled into some stitching. "And I'm sure you will be bringing plenty of trouble with you."

"I told you that was Kharis." Aeron rolled her eyes as she picked through a bowl of apples for the juiciest specimen. "Is that his grooms wear?"

"You don't have to look so displeased with it." Grandma huffed as she lifted the bizarre fancy shirt to display. "We are not making you wear it."

"Poor bastard." Aeron cringed at the hideous garment and bit into her apple the same second a potato bounced off her forehead. "Shit!"

"Language, girl!" Grandma reprimanded as her granddaughter searched the floor for her dropped breakfast. "Besides, Kharis will be too busy eyeing up his new bride to worry about his clothes."

"I think 'eyeing up' are the wrong words, grandma." She'd found her apple and eagerly made her way to the front door. "More like, terrified at the sight of some stranger he's got to marry. I bet you five silver he cries."

"Don't you torment him. Arrange marriages are a needed tradition in the Alienage's. You don't want none of that shem inbreeding."

"At least I ain't got to worry about it." Aeron smirked. "I'll see you tonight, grandma."

"I won't wait up."

Aeron chuckled quietly as she strolled the Alienage courtyard with her bruised apple and equally bruised lip. The dead bodies from the previous night had already been looted and tossed into the sewage pool despite the early hour. The sun was still rising above the cityscape driving out the shadows of the night but that didn't stop the elves from beginning their day's work. Stalls were being set-up, birds sang and servants and dockworkers rushed the staircase on a commute to their occupations. You would think nothing interesting had gone on at all the night before or the night before that and so on. Kirkwall had a habit of fluttering its pretty eyelashes during the day and coming alive at night with all manner of depravity. Skin deep beauty.

"Aeron!" A happy voice sang out through the Lowtown crowd.

"Juliannah?" Aeron paused, coming to a halt at the sound of the young human girls voice. "What are you doing out this early?"

"Oh." Juliannah giggled as she held up a roll of fabric. "Isn't it beautiful! I've been waiting all month for this to arrive. From Orlais you know! Isn't it exquisite! The detail! Oh my. I just couldn't wait for mother to send someone to pick it up so I came down and waited for the shop to open. So worth the wait."

"Right." Aeron fought to keep her puke-tastic look under wraps at the horrible roll of fabric. "I uh… let me carry that for you, messere."

"Oh would you?" She handed off her burden to the warriors waiting arms. "That's dreadfully kind of you. We better hurry back though. I don't want to get you in trouble with mother."

"Mmhmm." Aeron shrugged the heavy roll onto her shoulder and followed the girl up the numerous steps to Hightown. "Creators, this is going to kill me." She muttered under her breath as the joint fatigue of last night, lack of sleep and lugging ugly orlesian fabric up a never ending climb of stairs began to take its toll.

"Are you all right?" Juliannah had paused on the next staircase with a concerned look. "It's not far now. Can you make it?"

"I'm fine just… phew… next time could you wait for your deliveries at home." Aeron panted as she finally caught up with the young human. "Your mother would be… uh… heartbroken if anything were to happen to you out here alone." She quickly added as Juliannah began to tear up.

"I'm so sorry. I… I didn't think." She began to sob into her hands. "I always… I always do the wrong thing… I was just so excited… and now… and now you're mad at me… and mother will be mad at me and… and…"

"No, no, no… creators no!" Aeron scrambled for soothing word that were normally not in her vocabulary. "I… uh… I'm not mad. I'm happy to see you. And your fabric is… lovely. Look at the detail!"

"Oh the detail is beautiful!"

"Yes! It's the prettiest detail I have ever seen."

"Really?" Juliannah sniffled, wiping tears from her eyes.

"Really."

"Oh I'll have to make you some pretty clothes with it then, Aeron."

"You don't have to do that…" She paused and immediately backtracked as the girl was tearing up again. "But I would love it if you'd make me something with this beautiful fabric."

"Oh and I will!" Juliannah giggled. "I'll make you something so pretty. You wear too much armor and boy clothes. You need to try looking like a girl once and a while."

"Yes I should." Aeron bit her lip, as the girl turned and resumed their walk up the stairs, holding back a tirade of puking noises.

The mansion they were heading for could not come sooner as Juliannah and Aeron finally made it inside with the latter handing off the roll of ghastly fabric to a grimacing servant. Without a backwards glance Juliannah had skipped off up the stairs and into her room, ready to unravel her prize, leaving Aeron to catch her breath before walking up to a sturdy look door off to the left of the main lobby. She knocked briefly and waited patiently for a response as a significant pause played out.

"Come in." Finally a muffled voice ordered as she entered the large study and politely shut the door behind her. "Ah, Aeron. You're late."

"Yes, messere." Aeron took the chance of a sneaky yawn whilst the blond haired woman was busy scribbling on some parchment.

"You had a busy night I hear." Lyn continued her chicken scratching with a somewhat smug expression of triumphant at her subordinates glare burning holes in her back. "Picking fights with the Coterie was not a smart move. They may have been low order scum but their boss has been taking their cries seriously. You were with that Hawke fellow I heard."

"I was not… with him." Aeron cleared her throat hating having to explain her actions. "He just sort of… turned up."

"Like a heroic knight in shining armor?"

"Something like that…"

"Hmmm." Lyn paused her quill to blow on the wet ink before folding the parchment and melting wax for the seal.

"It was you who told that group of adventurers where to find the letters the other night wasn't it." The thought suddenly hit her like a ton of bricks. "Why?"

"Oh, just some friendly competition." Lyn dropped the finished letter into a basket of similar such papery mysteries.

Aeron could tell it was more than that, more like sizing up competition. Why was she so interested in that Hawke fellow? Was it because he was a mage? Was this Hawke the leader of a new criminal organization in Kirkwall? If he were, his friendly relationship with the guard-captain would really move him to high places quickly. No wonder Lyn was worried.

"Business is business, Aeron, you know that." Lyn moved from her wooden desk chair to a comfier armchair besides shelves of dull looking books. "Speaking of business."

"My job for the day?"

"Of course. I need you to watch Juliannah again. She has some foolhardy notion of feeding the poor or something. Make sure she comes to no harm. You know what will happen otherwise."

"Yes, messere."

"And take this." Lyn dropped a small pouch of coins into Aeron's waiting hand. "Tell her, 'mother has made a donation.' She'll like that."

"I think she'd prefer you coming along."

"Well, my daughter can have anything she wants. Except that. I don't do grime unless it's purely necessary."

"Mhm."

"Well off then I have important things to do after all." Lyn leaned back in her chair, picking up her tea and sipping it deliberately as if trying to prove a point.

* * *

><p>"I'm just so happy that we are doing this!" Juliannah was busy picking up random items from the Lowtown market stalls. "I can't believe mother was so generous too. Are you sure I shouldn't buy from the Hightown market? I'm sure all the refugees would prefer the quality."<p>

"You can get more for less coin here, messere." Aeron sighed as yet another satchel was frown over her shoulder. She was starting to resemble a pack mule now and hunch at the weight. _Creator's help us if anyone tries to attack_, she thought. "If you want to help these people then they'd prefer quantity over quality."

"I see. Hmm." Juliannah was looking over clothes now picking out the prettiest of the cheap gear. "What about meat?"

"It will go bad. Stick to long life food."

"Oh this is hard. Do you like these blankets?" The young girl was now fussing over exotic looking bed wear. "They just are not soft enough."

"Juliannah, if I may…" Aeron stepped up, dropping a satchel at her feet to free her arm and coax a wad of plain looking blankets forward. "These are what you are looking for."

"But they're so… drab."

"But they'll keep people warm, last longer and you can buy more of them for the same price as a few of those… other ones."

"I… yes that makes sense doesn't it." She picked up Aeron's choice and sighed as she paid the merchant. "I am out of coin now. Shall we head to Darktown?"

"Darktown? You didn't say we were going to Darktown." Aeron frowned, fighting to get the last satchel back in place on her shoulder. "I thought we were going to the Chantry to donate goods."

"No silly." Juliannah giggled. "We're going to help all the Fereldans and poor in Darktown. The Chantry does not need anymore of mothers charity."

"I don't know about this."

"It will be fine. You can protect us from anything bad and I am sure we will do a lot of good."

"Yes but-"

"No 'buts' I am putting my um… foot down." Juliannah gave a dainty little stamp with her much too good shoes for Darktown. "Did I sound very assertive? Mother says I need to be more assertive."

"Yes, messere." Aeron sighed as she followed the assertive young miss.

It didn't take long to reach Darktown, though Aeron was thoroughly exhausted and beginning to sweat again as she worked the pulley based elevator downwards. At least Juliannah had attempted to help and finally took two of the satchels from her guard's shoulders, to carry, but that still left many more to weigh the small half-elf down. Good thing she was a warrior and pretty damn strong.

As the elevator descended so did the stench rise in equal amounts. Juliannah was soon gagging at the putrid smell of death, feces and sickness but nothing prepared her for the sheer heat wave of the stuff as they finally hit solid ground once more. The young girl reeled backwards against the elevator wall and choked loudly trying to desperately hold onto her breakfast to know avail.

"We can turn back." Aeron was hopeful as she rubbed her charges lower back to ease the passing of fluids. "Donate to the Chantry. Maybe you could help at the soup kitchen."

"No I… I can do this." Juliannah leaned against the wall a little longer before finally pulling herself together and straightening her spine. Breathing was still laborious but she was at least starting to get used to the smell. "These _poor_ people. How can they live here?"

"Because they have no choice." Aeron shifted her satchels back onto her shoulders, unsure if the girl's teary eyes were for the beggars or the stench. Could be both.

"It's… it's so sad." Juliannah sniffled picking up her share of goods with renewed strength. "Let's get started."

"Yes, messere." Aeron sighed as she followed after her crusading charge.

It didn't take long for most of the goods to disappear into grateful hands. They began first by walking amongst collections of depressed families, and children to weak from hunger to cry, distributing food, clothing and blankets in equal amounts. As people started to notice the sharing of wealth, however, they soon began coming direct to the source making Juliannah's 'help the poor' cause that much easier. The girl in question was rather in her element, all smiles and manners as she gave freely. Even Aeron had to grin at the change in atmosphere; there were actually sounds of joy starting to lift the aura of damp dark away and children running amongst the crowds of needy in gigglesome play. Maybe this was a good idea. _Or maybe not_, she reconsidered as yet another pushy set of thugs attempted to shove their way through the queue only to be shoved back by an angry woman with red-eyes and a painful looking sword.

"This is your last bloody warning!" She shouted after the retreating band of ruffians, each sporting several cuts and bruises deservedly earned.

An hour or so later the crowd had finally began to thin into nothing more than a handful of stragglers picking up the last of the goods; spare one final satchel. Juliannah was visibly exhausted by the exertion but glowing with a charitable haze of bliss. She was only heartbroken she had nothing more to offer today but made a pledge to come back soon to several cheerful children. Perhaps this was her calling, maybe she'd join the chantry as a sister and... no she couldn't give up a lifetime of dreams for a husband and children.

As Aeron was keeping an eye out for any more villains she noticed a couple of suspicious looking fellows accompanied by a slobbering mabari. As they moved closer, bobbing out of the shadows and into the gloomy light she actively groaned and shrunk her neck into her shoulders. It was that bloody Hawke fellow again with his dwarf friend and they were meandering this way too. _Could things get any worse today_, she wondered.

Garrett was casually dawdling around Darktown trying not to breath through his nostrils, or trip over rats and corpses and stuff, when he spotted a pair of red-eyes glaring at him in menacing fashion. He had to stop and chat, obviously, he wasn't that rude a person to pass up a social call with his favourite playthings. As he got closer, grinning like a bearded weasel, he suddenly spotted the human girl the warrior was guarding and came to a stop between the two women. She looked to be about Carver's age give or take a year and rather over weight but by the Maker had it landed well in the front and the back. When standing next to Aeron it really contrasted the two. Whatever tits and arse the warrior should have had seemed to have been stolen and added to the girls buxom form.

"I bet you're soft."

"Excuse me?" Juliannah blinked at the strange man addressing her.

"I bet you're the soft sort. Saving kittens and puppies and stuff." Hawke amended hoping she'd believe his save.

"Oh I love kittens and puppies!"

"Bark!" Said Bounce as he wagged his bobtail furiously and attempted to flirt with the young girl.

"Oh aren't you precious!" Juliannah made a fuss over the attention seeking mabari. "I wish mother would let me have a mabari but she hates dogs."

"Why are you lot here?" Aeron cut in as Hawke was about to attempt some flirting of his own.

"Nice to see you again too." Hawke shrugged. "We should stop meeting this way and-"

"Cut the crap."

"That's not a nice word to use, Aeron." Juliannah shook her head in a disapproving fashion.

"Yeah, Aeron, that's not a nice word to use." Hawke shook his head in agreement. Reveling in the angry glare the woman in question was giving him. "But we're here to find a grey warden that's working as a healer."

"Oh, do you mean Anders?" Juliannah was the very definition of excited.

"You know him princess?" Varric stepped in attempting to move things along and get out of this desolate place.

"Only a little." She blushed, looking down at her muck covered expensive shoes. "I met him about a week ago when I was coming home from the Chantry. I wasn't paying attention and tripped on the stairs and he helped me up and healed my leg and he was so nice and dreadfully handsome and… so yes I sort of know him."

"_Creators_…" Aeron dragged her palm down her face in an exasperated action. At least now she knew what all this feeding the Darktown poor crap was about. Girl was sweet on yet another unobtainable man.

"Are you all right, Aeron?"

"Yes, messere." Aeron feigned a smile.

"Oh good. I was worried. You look rather pale." Juliannah smiled back at her guard then continued to address Hawke and his friend. "I had my mother's men look into where Anders is staying and they said he was down here in Darktown. Should be that way. Along the waterfront and down the stairs they said." She pointed off towards a set of stairs. "We were going to head that way soon and take some supplies for his clinic-"

"We were?" Aeron could barely control the fury present in her voice.

"Oh, did I not tell you?"

"No."

"Oh, silly me." Juliannah giggled. "But you know now so everything is all right. Maybe we should all go together then?"

"That sounds like a lovely idea." Hawke immediately moved closer to the buxom girl offering his arm to her.

"Oh thank you." Juliannah blushed again, entwining her arm with his. "What a gentleman."

"I would not call him that…" Varric muttered under his breath as Aeron glared after the pair practically skipping off towards Anders clinic with Bounce trailing behind. "Shall we?" He shrugged to Aeron as they both began to follow their perspective leaders.

"My name is Garrett Hawke. And you are?"

"Oh did I not introduce myself? I thought we already knew each other?" Juliannah gasped. "But um… I am Juliannah. Juliannah Mary Reid."

"Reid… Why is that name familiar?" Hawke looked ponderous as they arrived at a door surrounded by lit lanterns.

"Perhaps you know of my mother? Evelyn Reid?"

"Evelyn Reid? No I… Wait, Lyn Reid?" Hawke was tempted to throw the girl off his arm but managed to catch himself at the last minute. "Ladies first?" He held the clinic door open and waited patiently.

"Oh thank you. Such manners." Juliannah giggled as she disappeared inside trailing Aeron, Varric, Bounce and lastly Hawke as he held in a pained sob. He definitely couldn't tap that now. Not when it was related to evil.

As the group entered the clinic there was a charge in the atmosphere and the taste of magic burning on all tongues. Makeshift beds lined each wall, most occupied by the sick and recovering victims of society, whilst worried family members kept vigil or attempted to help by offering scant nourishment, a little water or simply changing piss-pots and bedding. There was a constant whiff in the air of vomit masked by the gentleness of elfroot and herbs and an eerie quiet of those resting punctuated by whispers and the quieter sounds you do not ordinarily hear; a rustle here, a creak of wood there and the ordinary sprinkle-hiss of dust settling.

Towards the back of the large room a young boy lay prone, in the grasps of death on a wooden table, his parents looking on in fear and desperation as a robed man concentrated on the task of healing. The healer was obviously a mage, his hands glowing with a blue shimmer of power that continued to increase its burn the harder he concentrated until finally the room was engulfed in a wonder of light. There was a pause that seemed to stretch an eternity but really only lasted a second or two where the light faded to nothing and the seemingly dead boy gasped to fill his lungs with life giving oxygen. The mage stumbled back in exhaustion, resting his tired form against the back wall as the ecstatic parents collected their now healthy child and shared their heart-felt thanks.

Juliannah was tear filled at the romantic wonder of the scene. A noble healer, saving children and kittens. What a fantastic husband he'd make. Hawke on the other hand was having far different set of thoughts to the teenage girl. He was thinking more along the lines of how wonderful the mage would be on his team in a battle. Before either could continue their line of fantasy the mage in question suddenly rounded on the group, his staff raised in threat and his eyes and voice heralding the presence of something otherworldly and wholly dangerous.

"I have made this place a sanctum of healing and salvation. Why do you threaten it?"

"A-A-Anders?" Juliannah leaned backwards, her fists balled nervously to her cheeks as she stared wide-eyed at the threatening mage. Perhaps he wasn't all that nice after all. Why was she always so wrong about men?

"Let's not get carried away now." Hawke stepped in front of the frightened girl like a superhero or something. "You're scaring the lady."

"Posturing tit." Aeron muttered under her breath with Varric silently agreeing.

"I- what? I could of sworn I felt a…" Anders trailed off having some inner conversations. There was an evil taste in the air and he wasn't sure where it was coming from. "None of you appear to be sick. This is a clinic not a tavern. What do you want?"

"I want to know about the deep roads." Hawke shrugged.

"Did the wardens send you to bring me back? I'm not going. Those bastards made me get rid of my cat. Poor Ser-pounce-a-lot. He hated the deep roads."

"You had a cat named Ser-pounce-a-lot? In the deep roads?" He had to question that; it was just too bizarre a thing to leave alone.

"He was a gift. A noble beast. Almost got ripped in half by a genlock once. He swatted the bugger on the nose. Drew blood too." Anders smiled away into a happy memory. "The blighted warden said he made me too soft. I had to give him to a friend in Amaranthine."

"So you came to Kirkwall just to escape the wardens?"

"You say that like it's a small thing. Yes, I'm here because there's no warden outpost, no darkspawn and a whole host of refugees to blend in with. And some reasons of my own." He added solemnly.

"And I heard that joining the wardens was for life." Varric stepped forward with a chuckle, eager to break the tension in the air.

"That's only partly true. The hopelessly tainted by the darkspawn and plagued by nightmares about the arch-demon parts don't go away." Anders grinned down at the charismatic dwarf, falling headlong into his aura of charm. "But it turns out if you hide well you don't have to wear the uniform or go to the parties."

"I need to know how to get into the deep roads." Hawke burst in completely ruining the moment of camaraderie Varric had built in one swift swoop. "You can tell me willingly or not."

"Don't threaten me little boy." Anders glared back at the tall bearded man-child. "You can't imagine what I've come through to get here. I'm not interested- Although a favour for a favour. Does that sound like a fair deal? You help me, I'll help you."

"We'll get to the deep roads ourselves." Hawke was in a bad mood now but at least Varric had better sense.

"Yes. Ancestors yes! We will do your favour, mage."

"Varric! I'm negotiating!"

"You're making a mess of this, Hawke. We need those maps."

"But…" Hawke pouted into a miserable sulk as the dwarf actively dismissed him.

"I'm glad to see at least one of you is reasonable." Anders sighed, not knowing what he would have done if they'd actually turned him down. "I have a warden map of the depths in this area. But there's a price. I came to Kirkwall to aid a friend. A mage. A prisoner in the retched gallows. The templars learned of my plans to free him. Help me bring him safely past them and you shall have your maps."

"What do the templars know of your plans?" Varric questioned, not wanting to get involved if it'd only land them in more trouble than the deep road's treasure was worth.

"I don't know. I had been exchanging notes with Karl through a maidservant in the gallows. Then the letters stopped coming."

"Then how do you plan to break him out of the gallows?"

"I'm hoping it won't come to that." Anders paced back and forth to ease the tension making his stomach roll or maybe it was just that evil presence he could still feel nagging at the back of his mind. "I sent Karl a message to meet me in the chantry tonight. Maker willing he'll be their, alone, but if there are templars with him I swear I'll free him from them. Whatever the cost. If you want my aid with your expedition meet me in the chantry tonight. I have sent word to Karl to be there. Maker willing we will all leave free men."

"Fair enough. I think we can accommodate your favour, mage." Varric offered his hand to shake on the deal. He was a dwarf after all and these things had to be done properly. "We will meet you tonight at the chantry."

"I will see you tonight then." Anders nodded his thanks with a relieved sigh.

"Come on Hawke. I'll buy you a drink." Varric turned, collecting the grumpy man-child from his moping spot. "Stay safe princess. You too Aeron."

"Oh um… good bye mister dwarf." Juliannah waved after the retreating adventurers, giving Bounce one last pat before he bounded off after his master.

"I thought you were with them." Anders frowned at the two women left in his clinic.

"Oh no we… don't you remember me?"

"No I… wait… at the chantry. You took a tumble down a flight of steps and almost broke your bloody neck." How could he have forgotten such a dumpling shaped girl rolling down a flight of steps and then crying as loud as she had? It would have been funny if it weren't so sad. "Are you sick?"

"No I… I…" She was flustered now and turning redder by the second. He remembered her.

"By the creators!" Aeron cringed at scene and stepped forward pushing a satchel of provisions into the healer's confused arms. "Miss Juliannah thought you might appreciate some things to help you with your clinic."

"A donation?" Anders grinned like a child discovering an unopened Christmas present in January. "Thank you. I could always do with the help here and… your eyes are very red."

"So I am told." Aeron shrank back behind her beaming charge not wanting to talk about it.

"They are very strange aren't they?" Juliannah chimed, not noticing the way her guards comfort level was rapidly falling. "Well I uh… I'm glad I could help. You should come to the mansion some time and uh, have tea and… yes."

"_Maker_…" Anders exhaled his savior's name before he realized what he was saying or the way his eyes had gone wide in utter terror. The girl was sweet on him. She was blushing like a virgin bride in an eligible bachelor shop. "I don't think that would be a good idea." He had to be careful how he put this, as to not hurt her feelings too badly. "I'm an apostate you realize. I can't just go walking around Hightown when I please and I have a lot of work here and you are obviously a lady of some nobility so it wouldn't be appropriate for a commoner like me to be visiting."

"Oh silly. I'm not nobility." Juliannah giggled at the healer's distress misinterpreting it as flirtatious jitters. "And my mother's a mage too so… Oh no, I'm not supposed to say that am I?"

"No." Aeron shook her head with a long drawn out sigh.

"Your mother is a mage?" Anders had to double take this conversation now. Perhaps the presence he was sensing wasn't something demonic at all but merely a young mages powers in this girl. No, she was a bit old to be unaware of her own power and he couldn't sense anything when focusing upon her.

"Are you all right, Anders?" Juliannah titled her head, her brow knitted into worry. "You disappeared for a moment there."

"I-yes. Sorry about that." He looked away thinking on things a moment longer. "Perhaps I will visit some time in the future but I am afraid I am very busy here. There are many in need of my healing."

"Yes I understand." She smiled but there was a touch of sadness watering her eyes now. "I hope to see you again and… good luck with everything. Come, Aeron, we should be heading back."

"Yes, messere."


	7. Crab salad

**Chapter 7: Crab salad**

It had been a couple of weeks since she had seen Hawke and his merry band. Well, that was a lie. She'd actually glimpsed them a few times out and about, and even at the hanged man, but soon hid from their sight. They really weren't her kind of people. Far more trouble than she needed.

"Your call, cousin." Aeron tossed in a few silver to the growing pile on the table and waited for the solemn looking elf to respond. "Kharis?"

"What?" He looked up, dazed and confused like a startled rabbit.

"It's your call."

"I uh… creators I can't do this!" Kharis was on his feet, sharply, tossing the cards in his hand on the table as he made a break for the hovel door.

"Oh no you don't!" Aeron had him by the back of his ghastly fancy groom shirt, quicker than he could flee, and tugged him back into a well worn chair.

"Please cousin! This is madness!" He was pleading, trying his best to escape her hold whilst she tried desperately not to wrinkle his shirt too badly. "I don't even know the girl!"

"Yeah, yeah." Aeron shrugged, finally pinning him into place with her knee. "You know you had weeks to leave the city before hand. Besides, grandma and your mother would kill me if I let you out of my sight."

"Oh creators." He was crying now. Grandma owed her five silver. "This can't be happening to me. What if she is ugly?"

"You saw the sketch they sent of her."

"Yes but that was a sketch! What if the artist lied?"

"Then you're fucked."

"Oh great help you are, cousin." Kharis thrashed uselessly against her once again. "Let me go. I am sure I can make it to a ship and-"

"What's going on in here?" Grandma appeared in the doorway, lips pursed in sour bliss and annoyance. "Aeron you're creasing his blouse! Get off of him."

"He was trying to escape."

"I was not!" Kharis lied much to Aeron's horror.

"You two better behave. Your mother and I have been working hard to organize this for weeks." Grandma immediately started slicking down Kharis's mess of wild black curls. "Everyone has been looking forward to this. And Aeron, you better not be wearing that."

"What's wrong with it?" Aeron tugged her dark tunic back into place. "It's the nicest thing I own."

"What about that dress you brought home the other day? The lovely orleisian silk one with that beautiful detail."

"Uck. You mean that thing Juliannah made for me?"

"Go and put it on." Grandma pointed a threatening finger to drive her demand home. "Now!"

Not wanting to face anymore wrath, Aeron quickly departed to her room to discover some humiliation. The dress was the most hideous thing she had ever seen. Why did no one else see how truly ghastly all that orleisian puke was? Maybe there was something wrong with her taste. No, that couldn't be it.

Stripping out of her nice clothes she hastily threw the fitted dress on and tried not to think about how horrid it looked. She could put up with this, just for today, it was Kharis's wedding after all. Nothing could out do the utter misery he was experiencing. At least that thought was a gift that just kept giving and made her chuckle happily every time it graced her mind.

It wasn't long until things were beginning to get underway. The bride to be arrived in the early afternoon giving her and Kharis a chance to exchange pleasantries and terrified stares for several minutes before the chantry sister arrived to complete the bonding ceremony. The entire Alienage was there, all gathered around the courtyard as witness to the blessed event. Creators knew how they all managed to score the day off work but people really could achieve amazing feats for the offer of free food and a little dancing. The elves home really hadn't looked so nice in such a long time. The place had been tided, decorations put up and lanterns hung from the great tree that stood tall and proud in the center of the courtyard.

Aeron was surprised to even see the newest resident of the Alienage had come out to join the excited mingle of elves. She was a shy dalish elf nobody had really seen much of since she had arrived but apparently weddings really were the best place to socialize.

As the ceremony began, everything went suddenly quiet as if all the air had been sucked out of the world. It was strangely eerie but also spectacular to witness. The intended stared unblinking at the sister in front of them as she preached about the Maker and Andraste and all that boring religious stuff. Both were too terrified to look at one another for longer than the briefest of glances. Kharis was even swaying gently like a tree catching the wind. As they moved on to the part of the ceremony where words were exchanged there was a worrying moment when the bride began to speak her agreement and suddenly stopped to hold back the desire to vomit. Kharis looked ready to bolt at the pause but several hands, belonging to the women in his family, held him rooted to the ground. No getting out of this one.

When it was finally all over, and the sister congratulated them on their union, bride and groom leaned in for the most awkward of first kisses what was quickly followed by an all mighty cheer from the elven crowd; eager to get the party started. Kharis and his bride were quickly ushered away to a quiet corner, to make room for the tables and chairs being brought out accompanied by barrels of ale and assorted nibbles, giving the pair a chance to get to know one another. It wasn't long before the band started playing and the party hit full swing; everybody apparently having forgotten the newly weds.

"That didn't go too bad." Aeron shrugged to her aunt as they placed trays of mini pies on a long table. "I really thought we would lose him when she started to vomit."

"Poor girl. Can't be easy arriving in a new place."

"She's from Fereldan right? At least she'll have plenty of other Fereldan's to mingle with." Aeron picked up a pie only to have it smacked out of her hand.

"Those are for the guests."

"Yes aunty." She sighed away from the table of yummy things and took a sneak peak at Kharis and his Fereldan lady giggling in a corner. He must have brought out his collection of cheesy jokes. At least they were starting to get along.

Turning back to the party, she straightened her sickening dress and stared at the crowd in cheerful wonder. It was nice to see everyone having a good time and getting along; that kind of thing didn't happen much in the Alienage. Looking around further she spotted her grandmother talking to several eligible young elf men accompanied by their mothers and occasionally pointing over at her. _Creators please don't be matchmaking you stupid old woman_, she pleaded with any deity currently listening. One of them had to feel sorry for her.

"Um… you are the grooms sister aren't you?" The shy dalish girl had snuck up behind her making Aeron jump. "It's a lovely party. I'm so glad I was invited. Though everyone was invited weren't they? Oh I'm rambling. I'm Merrill by the way."

"Aeron." She nodded back at the peculiar elf finding her eyes tracing the tattoos on her face in curious fashion. "I am Aeron that is. And I'm Kharis's cousin."

"Oh I'm always getting things wrong. I'm new here. Well you probably already knew that."

"Hmmm. We don't see many dalish in the city. There is Arianni, I think she used to be dalish."

"Really? I should probably introduce myself then. Would be so nice to talk to someone who understands the ways of the true elves."

"…. She's over there." Aeron pointed out the ex-dalish amongst the crowd, currently fussing over her teenage son Feynriel, before she snuck away from the odd elf to find a quiet spot.

It was to no avail though. Her grandma was bee lining for her dragging some helpless victim to a gruesome death. He wasn't a bad looking elf but Aeron really wasn't interested and thankfully, by the alarmed look he was giving her, grandma's latest sacrifice didn't look to eager neither.

"Aeron, I'm glad I found you." Grandma began as she tugged the elf man to her side. "This is Meyer's son, Darrian. You should have something in common."

Darrian made a grunting noise that could of meant anything and Aeron quickly returned it with a similar guttural sound. With that, grandma turned and stalked away, finding Darrian's mother at the opposite end of the courtyard and immediately started plotting horrible things neither of the offspring would like. They were of course expected to dance and chat or something.

"Drink?"

"Creators yes!" Darrian exclaimed as they went to find ale or something stronger.

As the afternoon wore on, everybody getting drunker and louder in the process and night soon descended upon them, Aeron was utterly exhausted. She'd been obliged to dance twice and have numerous conversations with single men her grandma had practically thrown at her. The interest level was nil for all involved which was about the only thing she had in common with any of these men. Grandma had finally gotten exasperated, however, and given up completely; thank the creators. She'd run out of single men with willing mothers to persuade. _She's got one of us married isn't that enough_, she sighed into her drink.

The sky was dark now, stars twinkling above the party without a cloud in sight, and the lanterns hanging from the great tree glowed in such an enchanting manner. Everyone was happy, even Kharis and his bride were dancing around to the band joyously, and the evening felt perfect. Aeron smiled, leaning against the wall besides the stairs and watched dancers bob up and down to the music.

"I had not realized the Alienage was prone to sporadic festivals."

"It's a wedding." Aeron sighed, spotting the wash of white hair having appeared to her right. "My cousin just got married."

"Then congratulations are in order." Fenris leaned besides her, his arms folding as he took in the scene. "I… have been thinking."

"A dangerous pass time. I'd do it carefully or your head might explode."

"Vhendis woman." He frowned. "I have been thinking about us. Our situation. You were good to me and I was not the same to you. I meant what I said before. I will make it up to you. I am… I do not know how to proceed so I decided to come and ask you directly. What do you need of me?"

"Another drink?" She held up her empty cup to him making him snort with amusement.

"If you wish but I do not believe for a second something so trivial will wipe away my debt to you." He shook his head taking her cup and disappearing to find wine for them both.

Aeron watched him go with mild fascination. It was strange to see him here, now, and something wholly unexpected to the day. Perhaps she should try expecting the unexpected though that seemed an impossible task. As the white haired elf negotiated the crowd, carrying two full cups in each hand, Aeron noticed the way several young women paused to look him over and giggle to one another in girlish desire. He was handsome, she'd give him that but that was something dangerous to be when at a wedding. It was only a matter of time before… and there she was. Grandma had clocked him like a hungry tiger on the prow.

"Your wine." He offered her a cup, which she eagerly took and gulped down.

"Don't look now. My grandma is coming this way."

"Your grandmother?"

"Yes. And she will start matchmaking. The women here are crazy."

"Perhaps I should go." He looked around for somewhere to drop his drink.

"To late now. Smile." She hissed under her breath shocking him into a pained expression that sort of resembled a smile.

"Who is this, Aeron?" Grandma looked the stranger up and down, cataloguing everything about him. "I have never seen him before."

"This is Fenris, grandma. He's from tevinter."

"Seheron." He corrected. "I just… lived in tevinter for a time."

"A foreign elf? And rather handsome too…" She added that last bit as if it were meant for her ears and no one else's. "Well you can't just barge into a private party uninvited. And after the wedding too."

"I apologies I was not aware-" He began his excuse only to be cut off by the wave of the old woman's dismissive hand.

"It has happened now." Grandma's eyes twinkled with devious scheming. "You will just have to make yourself useful and dance with my granddaughter. Can't have you both making the place look untidy over here."

"Grandma!" Aeron began her protest.

"If that is what it will take to clear my offence." He bowed slightly to the elder elf then held out his hand for Aeron to take. She didn't have a chance to refuse anyway, grandma yanked her arm up and practically shoved her onto Fenris before she knew what was going on.

"Creators… I'm so sorry about this." Aeron muttered to Fenris as they walked towards the crowd of dancers.

_Oh just my luck_, she fumed as the band finished playing their lively rendition of 'Shake a wizard, lick a toad' and moved onto a slower number. As if this could be anymore embarrassing and retched. No wait, she was also getting glared at by every free woman and her mother in attendance.

"_Fuck me_…"

"What?" Fenris was somewhat alarmed by the explicit.

"Nothing just…. My dress is pissing me off." She made up, taking his offered hand as they began some sort of waltz dance thing. She wasn't sure, dancing really wasn't something she did much; if at all. "Haven't worn one since I was a little girl."

"The pattern is orlesisan?" He shrugged, trying to remember the steps to the dance. At least Danarius had, had him learn a few normal things of use.

"Yes. Horribly orlesian. It's ghastly. I plan on burning it when this night is over."

"That is a shame." He chuckled briefly, before concentration flooded his features once more. "It looks good on you."

"Hmmm." She grumbled looking away to hide a slight blush. Why was she blushing? Maybe it was the wine. That was it; it was all the wines fault. "You seen that Hawke fellow about?"

"Yes." Fenris attempted to twirl her only to confuse his dance partner and cover for her awkward stumble. He wouldn't try that again. "We work together regularly. He often needs help with various jobs. I believe he and Varric are attempting to fund an expedition into the deep roads soon."

"The deep roads?"

Aeron couldn't believe how much they ended up talking about that horrid Hawke fellow and worse still she was actually enjoying the conversation. It wasn't until someone tapped Fenris on the shoulder that they even remembered they were still dancing.

"If you two dance any longer grandma will start planning the wedding." Kharis grinned as he parted the two. "You've been dancing for nearly an hour and neglecting me, cousin."

"Ugh." Aeron grimaced at her cousin's horrid attempt at a pout. It might work on aunty and grandma but not her. "Why don't you go talk to your wife some more and find out what her favourite colour is?"

"It's blue. That was the first bit of information we exchanged after we were married. Then she told me all about her parents, Fereldan and her pet rabbit Fifi that her family ate one winter and mentally scared her for life. If she wasn't so pretty I would have slit my own throat by now."

"That is a great deal of information to find out after you are married." Fenris was confused. "Did you not know all this before hand?"

"No. I only just met her today."

"I…" Fenris was struck dumb as he mulled this information over and attempted to make sense of it.

"It's an arranged marriage Fenris." Aeron jumped in, rescuing his brow from permanent wrinkles. "It's a swap with Denerim's Alienage so we don't get all inbred."

"You have my commiseration." Fenris nodded to the groom who shrugged back uncomfortably.

"I should be getting back to Nessa. My mother has been trying to convince us too retire in doors for the last two hours."

"You poor dear." Aeron rolled her eyes. "I hope she isn't a virgin so it's at least somewhat interesting for you."

"Haha!" Kharis chuckled gaining a spring in his step. "If you hear someone screaming out my name-"

"For once I won't come running with my sword." Aeron waved him off as her cousin returned to his blushing bride.

"Arranged marriages." Fenris sniffed. "It seems so…"

"Barbaric." She finished for him before groaning into herself. "Grandma is back…"

"You two are getting along nicely." Grandma's wolfish grin was really starting to get scary. "But you cannot stand here in the middle of the dance floor doing nothing."

"We were just talking to Khar-"

"That's nice." Grandma pulled on her granddaughter's cheeks to redden them then slicked her hair into something neater. "You should bring Fenris around for dinner sometime. Now carry on. Dance."

As grandma disappeared back to her lair, to huddle with the other crazy women and plot things, Aeron turned back to Fenris with a disenchanted look.

"Drink?" He rumbled.

"Yes." She nodded gratefully as he led her towards the makeshift bar. "I am so sorry about her…"

"You are lucky to have such caring family."

* * *

><p>"That Fenris fellow seems like a good catch. And he's an elf too."<p>

"Grandma, marrying some elf won't make my children pointy eared." Aeron sighed over her breakfast. She had a thumping headache from too much alcohol the night before and a bad case of regret.

"Well it's better than you with some shem."

"I _am_ a shem."

"No you're not." Grandma was getting annoyed. She didn't like shem at all.

"Grandma look at me. I'm not an elf. I'm the bastard child of some human my mother whored around with."

"Don't talk about my daughter that way. She was not a whore!"

"No she was just crazy and slept around with creators know who then took me out one day and-"

"Don't. I can't. " Grandma stood, pushing away from the dining table.

"Can't what? Hear the truth?"

"I'm not listening to this."

"She took me out to the coast and-"

"Don't you dare! I can't do this. I won't listen." Grandma retreated to her bedroom and slammed the door closed behind her.

"_Grandma_…" Aeron sobbed feeling the oppression of the room, the house, the world in general. She had to get out before she started clawing the walls down around her.

As she got out of the house it still wasn't enough, the tears were still coming and the feelings catching up with her. Before she knew it she'd broken out into a run, up the stairs, turning corners going creators knew where. It wasn't until a brown mass of fur appeared in her blurred vision that she finally stopped but only because she'd tripped over the huge mabari and skidded to a halt on the floor.

"Maker! You poor dear." A woman exclaimed somewhere to her left. "Carver, quick, take the shopping inside and start boiling some water."

"But mother… Aeron?"

"Stop dawdling." Leandra shooed her son away before bending down to help the fallen woman up. "Can you stand? Oh that's a nasty looking gash on your knee. We'll have to clean that."

"No I'm fine. Thank you." Aeron tried to coax her way out of the woman's iron grip but soon found she needed her after all to take the weight off her bleeding leg.

"Obviously not. Come on. We're just up the steps here." Leandra helped the hobbled woman up the stairs to her home. "Come on Bounce you great lumbering… tsk. I'm sorry about him. He gets much too excited when we take him out and just ends up under everyone's feet."

"Whine." Whined Bounce, feeling very sorry indeed.

"I noticed." Aeron sighed as they made it up the stairs and into a nicer hovel than her own. "But I should have been looking where I was going."

"We can sort out blame later. First things first." She helped the injured party into a creaking old chair. "Carver, how's that water coming?"

"Heating, mother." Carver stared at the boiling pot as if his glare would will it to an adequate temperature.

As they waited for some warm water, Leandra quickly set about finding bandages, salves and a pillow. With two boisterous boys in the house all the items were readily available and in great quantity. This was not the first time she'd had to deal with a badly scraped knee.

Helping Aeron lift her leg onto a second chair, she pushed the pillow under the injured woman's foot for comfort and soon began the task of cleaning the wound. It was pretty deep and full of debris but the gush of blood was more for show than a sign of any permanent damage. Aeron hissed as salve was rubbed onto the gash followed swiftly by a bandage wrapped with well-practiced hands.

"You are much better behaved than my two boys." Leandra smiled motherly as she tied the bandaged tight and stood back to admire her handiwork. "Always wailing and screaming when they need something looked at."

"I am not that bad mother." Carver grumbled as he took the seat next to Aeron, placing a fresh pot of tea between them. "It's Garrett that makes all the bother."

"You should rest here a while before running off. Have some tea." Leandra fussed. "You look like you could do with a hot drink." She smiled then left the two alone having business of her own to take care of.

"Mother likes to fuss." Carver poured her a cup of steaming hot tea, pushing it haphazardly towards the other warrior.

"Hmmm." Aeron hummed as she sniffed the contents of the cup then closed her eyes to embrace its depths. "You're lucky to have her."

"If you say so."

"You really are a tit."

"I-" Carver was caught off guard by the statement having not realised how flippant he was being. "Sorry I'm just used to… it doesn't matter." They sat in companionable silence each sipping their beverage for a time. "Why were you running?"

"Hmmm?" She looked up from the groove in the table she had been picking at. "Nothing just… things. I just wanted…"

"To get away." He finished for her. "I feel like that sometimes. Most of the time really. Things are so different here."

"That they are."

"My brother expects me to sit around twiddling my thumbs here night and day. Protecting mother from uncles debt collectors and generally minding the chickens."

"Sounds like my cousin. He's always in trouble and of course I have to clean up after him and chase all the scum he trails into the Alienage out."

"Family!"

"I second that." They shared a mutual glare at family troubles.

"So it's just you and your cousin?" Carver took another sip of his tea.

"No. Aunt and grandma too."

"What about your mother and father?"

"Never met my father. Don't even think my mother knew his name." She shrugged. "Not seen my mother since I was nine maybe ten. Not even sure if she's alive or not."

"Why not?" He was curious now.

"We were captured by slavers along the wounded coast."

"You were a slave?"

"No. Not me. I was saved that fate by… well some strange scabbing on my body. The crew on the ship we were on thought I had a disease or something and tossed me over board just to be sure. Best thing that could have happened. When that cold water hit me it was like being reborn. All the haze lifted. I never felt so alive before. Maybe it was just the adrenaline. I don't know. I'd lost so much weight by then I easily slipped my chains and kicked to the surface. That first breath burned my lungs but by the creators it felt good to be alive."

"You swam back to shore?"

"No. I was too far out at sea. I found an old barrel and threw myself over it. Never felt so tired in all my life. Couldn't tell you how long I floated there. Just waiting. I remember it getting so cold my whole body went numb and then burning hot as the sun burnt and blistered my skin only to start the cycle again. At some point I was picked up by a passing ship. Pirates no less. They nursed me back and I spent nearly ten years with them, repaying them back for my life."

"You were a pirate then? Like Isabela."

"Who?" She raised an eyebrow in question.

"She's a friend of ours. Well a friend of Garrett's. She used to be a pirate captain or so she says." Carver finished his tea. "Sounds like you've had an interesting life."

"You don't know the half of it." She chuckled and stood, testing out her weight on the bandaged leg. "I should get home."

"Do you want me to walk you?" Carver made to stand but she stilled him with a hand placed on his shoulder.

"I can manage but thank you." She smiled and before she knew it leaned in and kissed his cheek. It seemed like the right thing to do at the time. "For everything. And the tea." She patted his shoulder once then made the most graceful walk she was capable of out the front door; completely unaware of the way he would hold his cheek after she was gone.


	8. Under the sea

**Chapter 8: Under the sea**

The hanged man was brimming with drunks as Aeron took a seat among a table of elves playing cards. They were lodged happily in the back of the tavern, light scarce and the smell of dust over powering but it was a much nicer spot than the rest of the room. Humans, a couple of dwarfs and creatures that appeared more alcohol than sentient beings mingled loudly around the bar. There were a few brawls that broke out sporadically and spontaneous dancing that still looked like drunken brawling or maybe an epileptic fit. Aeron wasn't even sure where the music was coming from; the place was so packed you could hardly tell one elbow from another.

It was late evening now, somewhere in the double digits of time, and Lyn was busy in her back room dealing with some 'clients'; whatever that meant. Aeron was just waiting as instructed for whatever task she was expected to undertake this night. Probably another super secret package delivery or maybe even a little back alley murder. Things were a blur of right and wrong but she tried not to think about it. She'd done far worse in the past and no doubt would find something darker still to take part in somewhere off in the future. The world around lacked the taste of sunshine and the smell of roses.

There was movement somewhere behind her that did not seem to faze the warrior; having gotten used to the bustle of inebriated clientele all night long. However, Aeron's eyes shot wide open as she felt something prickly brush against her ear and a low seductive voice begin its crooning call.

"You've. Been. Avoiding. Me." Garrett breathed succulently into her ear causing an involuntary shudder to race up and down her spine as his warm breath mingled with the creases of her inner cartilage. He grinned like a mabari that knows he's done good. Or maybe it was more like a coyote. Either way something doggish and proud of itself. "How about you and I-"

"That sentence better end with you buggering off." She turned delivering a glare that promised worse things in store if he continued.

Hawke pouted miserably at his reception and fluttered his eyelashes in mock hurt. For some reason he liked the way she hated him, it was something that brought him tremendous glee to spur further realms of fury. Maybe they'd end up having some angry sex; that was always the best kind.

"Oh how you wound me, girl." He grinned at the wince of annoyance he gained by the juvenile nickname. "I was only trying to be friendly but if that's how it is going to be. You can cry here alone then. Oh so alone. So very, very alone."

"Get lost shem." An angry elf spat in the human's direction, backed up by several other elven glares.

"Alone forever." Hawke reiterated as he swaggered away; a difficult feat in the bustling crowd of drunks. "Isabela! My favourite pirate."

"Hawke, fancy seeing you here. You can buy me a drink." Isabela leaned against the bar, hip jotted to the side and oozing sexuality.

"Do I get a kiss if I do?"

"I'll even let you pick where I plant it." She giggled into his eager arms, running her hands through his untamed black hair. "You could do with a shave."

"But my beard is so manly." He sniffed in feigned hurt before leaning in and tracing a line of promise filled kisses down her neck and collarbone.

"Mmmm." She hummed pleasantly, signalling the bartender to bring her a new bottle of whiskey. "Lets go to my room and discuss it further. I know a few perks I could convince you with."

"Is that so." Hawke grinned, planting a deeper kiss on his pirate captain's plump and juicy lips. "I look forward to hearing your debate."

"No words could adequately describe my arguments. I better show you instead." She winked, picking up her new bottle of whiskey and pulling her captive by the collar of his shirt through the sea of patrons.

"I hope you don't expect me to go easy on you. I'm very fond of my beard after all."

"I should hope not. If you started getting soft I'd have to kick you out and find someone else to debate with."

* * *

><p>Hawke awoke the next morning, thankfully not at the docks but he was very naked. There was something warm and heavy pressed against his chest and something even softer and heavier than that crushing his thigh. As he shifted, peeling the sheets away, like an onions skin, the breath caught in his throat at the sight of duel naked arse. That certainly explained why every muscle in his body ached like the never-ending torrent of the oceans waves. The empty bottles of whiskey lounging around on the wood beam floor account for his headache and memory loss. Things were never dull when he spent the night with Isabela; that was for sure.<p>

Wriggling his leg free, from whoever that woman was on top of it, he got to work dislodging Isabela from her cosy spot on his chest. Both women must have been heavily sedated on alcohol because no amount of shifting, prodding or squeezing of soft womanly things paused their peaceful snoring. He must of done good last night.

Grinning, with renewed manly prowess, Garrett set about collecting up his things and dressing for the day. He had things to do; he always had things to do. Mother was probably tutting and fretting. Carver on the other hand was probably jumping for joy and plotting at his no show. Frowning at the thought of having to explain himself to his own mother, being a grown man and all, his brow knitted even tighter a cranial squeeze as he noticed something was a miss.

Arms, legs, body, clothes, staff, money pouch- empty money pouch. _Thank you Isabela_, he sighed. What was he missing? Something wasn't right. He thought about this a moment longer, rubbing his smooth chin in confusion until it suddenly hit him like a house to the face.

"I'm cold." He pouted, holding his chilled naked cheeks. "My manly power of persuasion has been stripped from my face!"

"Be quiet Hawke I'm trying to sleep." Isabela tossed a pillow at the sobbing mage then instantly curled into a tangle with the mystery woman for comfort and heat.

"You are not getting your talented fingers in my pants again until my beard grows back woman!" Hawke was furious then heavily aroused as he watched Isabela and woman number two.

"That's just fine, Hawke." Isabela felt her way down the other woman's body until a nipple lodged between her teeth.

"Oh that feels good." The woman squealed under Isabela's ministration. "What was your name again?"

"That doesn't matter, sweet thing." Isabela giggled seductively as her fingers traced slowly descending circles down the woman's stomach.

"You… You are forgiven." Hawke immediately started peeling his clothes off again only to be kicked out of the room by a hung-over pirate with better people to do. "Bitch…" He growled, pulling his shirt back on and stalking away from the loud groans of pleasure emanating from Isabela's room.

"Hawke." Fenris nodded from his seat by the bar. The elf was waiting, as he did most mornings, for mercenary work to land at his bare, tattooed feet. "There is something different about you today."

"Shut up!" Hawke scratched at the itchy flesh where his beard once was.

"Hawke!"

"I said shut up about it!" Hawke screamed, having made his chin several shades of pink from his clawing.

"I… I… I didn't mean to… Oh have I done something wrong again?" Merrill rocked further and further backwards as she was pelted with each angry syllable. "I'm so sorry, Hawke. I-"

"It's all right Merrill." Hawke quickly backtracked, knowing he'd have to follow his words up with an apology. "I shouldn't have snapped it's just… been a trying morning."

"Oh I see well, apology accepted then." Merrill smiled suddenly noticing something was different. "I like you without your facial hair. It makes you look younger. All that hair was hiding your handsome face."

"Handsome you say?" Hawke's lecherous grin brought blushes to every patch of bare skin on the elf woman's body.

"Yes well… I need your help Hawke."

"When does anybody not?" He sighed. "Well out with it then."

"It's about a friend of mine, Arianni. A fellow Dalish elf living in the Alienage." She stepped closer, feeling her confidence return and her blush cool. "Her boy, Feynriel went missing after he found out the Templars were coming to take him to the circle. Arianni is worried for him; he has dreadful nightmares of demons that often keep him trapped in his sleep. I promised her I would find him, Hawke, but I… I cannot do it alone."

"Why am I not surprised?" Fenris growled low in general disgust. "A coward mage at the centre of trouble."

"I tracked him through a retired templar called Samson that sent him to a Captain Reiner," she continued ignoring the other elf, "but when I got there. Oh it was horrible Hawke! They were attacking this poor mage girl and then there were demons everywhere. I had to use so much blood magic I thought I'd die of blood loss before-"

"You were using blood magic?" Fenris spat angrily before getting pushed back into his seat by Hawke.

"I'll handle this Fenris." Hawke affirmed then turned back to the little elf woman with his best scorning face on. "You were using blood magic?"

"Well I had to. I know I promised you I wouldn't use it in your presence but you weren't there. I would have died if it wasn't for-"

"Merrill! You can't…" Hawke groaned, running his palm down his face. "Just… carry on with your story."

"Oh right I, well… I discovered these shipping records and there's a purchase here for-"

"A mage boy to Danzig in the undercity?" Hawke finished as he snatched the paper and read it aloud. "And you want me to help you rescue this elf mage?"

"I was hoping you would, yes." Merrill had her puppy eyes on and how big and beautiful those green orbs were too.

"Come on Fenris lets go kill some slavers!" Hawke beamed, practically tossing the scowling man elf over his shoulder and chasing after Merrill.

As they entered Darktown the usually quietly depressed slums were brimming with thugs and Coterie. Apparently the thieves' guild was having its annual meeting or something. Not that it really mattered; the three adventurers cut a path through the mob like cheap cutlery to warm butter. Garrett couldn't believe how poorly trained the scum were nowadays or perhaps he really was just that powerful and manly. Even without his beard.

Finding Danzig and his horde of people traffickers was no hard feat. Several Fereldan refugees pointed him out without even the need for monetary persuasion. _They must really hate him_, Garrett mused as he dropped some looted coin into a frail looking girl's hands in payment for information. She stared at the shinnies in hunger-induced confusion before the realisation of consumerism came to her with a smile.

"Do you think Feynriel is all right?" Merrill fretted as they walked down a set of poorly crafted wood steps. "All these people… the stories we've heard."

"They would not harm so lucrative a prize." Fenris grumbled.

"Shh you two and let me do the talking." Hawke took point, strolling out boldly to the centre of the slavers camp.

"Why, look here, boys." Danzig began his approach with the most ludicrous of swaggers. "Volunteers. Clap 'em in irons and lets see what the Tevinters will pay for 'em."

"Now, now." Hawke began his witty dialogue. "We just want a young mage boy you kidnapped. His names Feynriel." He waited for a response but only received a loud array of menacing mirth. "Make him talk."

"I can do that." Fenris glowed cheerfully as he burst into action, ramming his fist inside the slave-herding leader.

"Ahhh errr…" Danzig choked and groaned as he stared blindly at the arm protruding from his chest not knowing what to do; along with the rest of his stunned men. As soon as the burning white-hot pain began, it quickly ended as the elf released his hold letting the slaver drop to his knee's wheezing for air. "Andraste's great flaming arse. How did you do that? Nevermind." He made to stand shaking like a leaf in the wind. "I-I've stashed the boy in a cave. A smuggler hideout on the wounded coast. Tevinters will be by to finish the deal today. Now… c-can I go?"

"We're done with you." Fenris growled, slamming his fist into the man's chest a second and final time with a loud crackle, squelch, pop.

"We don't want no trouble." A hireling retreated backwards, hands raised in universal surrender along with his peers; all petrified of the glowing elf.

"What a shame." Hawke grinned, his staff in his hands swirling menacingly from hand to hand. "You found some."

There was a chorus of metallic song in the air as thugs unsheathed their swords and moved to defend themselves. It was all for nothing, however, when a handful of warriors is forced to face the wrath of two mages and a magically fisting elf. Several thugs held their ground, slashing and parrying furious against great sword and staffs but were cut down swiftly by vines, fire and beheading. The three adventures really were a force to be reckoned with. With that in mind the last few hirelings decided on an ulterior route and threw themselves cowardly off a ledge to the treacherous mercies of the sea below. As Hawke and co leaned over the edge to watch the screaming splashes of men in armour they became amusingly aware of the way most of the men could not swim and were being pulled under by the weight of metal.

"What a waste." Hawke sighed. "They probably had good loot on them too."

"We can get more loot, Hawke." Fenris turned, his expression hidden by stray strands of cream coloured hair. "We should begin our journey to the wounded coast."

"Hmmm rescue the man-maiden Feynriel and loot some slavers corpses." Hawke grinned, draping his arm around Merrill's shoulder, making her squeak at the contact, and guiding her ever onwards. "What could make me happier?"

"You know gluttony is a sin, Hawke." Anders was leaning against a grubby column, watching the three ascend the wooden staircase to his level.

"Anders!" Hawke quickly switched shoulder draping from Merrill to the healer. "You're just in time. Come and help us."

"I can't, Hawke." Anders rubbed at his blood shot eyes with a healthy yawn. "I have been up all night with a difficult birthing. The babe really gave us the run around."

"I didn't realise you were pregnant."

"Ha ha." Anders stated sarcastically. "One of my patients of course."

"Of course." Hawke shrugged, tugging the pliable healer from his resting place and along their intended route. "But you will still come with us. We're rescuing a mage boy from slavers."

"A mage?"

"I knew that would get your interest." A wolfish grin spread across his face.

"I don- Hmmm." There was a light blue glowing behind the mages eyes, which told Hawke Justice was listening.

"We need to stop these bad, bad men from dealing in peoples lives. Forcing them into servitude and-"

"Hawke!" Anders groaned, rubbing his head to dislodge the worked up spirits nagging. "All right. I will come but…"

"But?"

"I am nearly out of elfroot so I want you to collect me some samples."

"Is that all? Fine." Hawke shrugged dragging his party's sleepy healer along for the ride.

* * *

><p>As they finally reached the wounded coast, after half an hours trek from the city, they paused to gage their surroundings. It was quiet enough, apart from the shrill cries of hungry and horny seabirds, but that generally was not a good sign. Hawke looked around at his party; Merrill was excited of course whilst Fenris was very cross indeed being surrounded by mages but at least he had the incentive of slaver massacring. Anders on the other hand looked worse for wear and was drinking a vial of something green and glowing that Garrett hoped to the Maker was lyrium and apple juice. He probably shouldn't have riled up Justice but the healer really was of great use in a pinch.<p>

"Have at it men!"

"Hey!"

"Sorry Merrill… " Hawke corrected himself. "Have at it men and Merrill!"

"That's better. Wouldn't want to be left out now would I." Merrill chirruped as she skipped after the leader. "What are we having at anyway? Oooh is it a surprise? I like surprises."

"Merrill…" Anders groaned, taking another swig of his perk-me-up drink.

"What? Did I say something stupid again?"

"Yes." Fenris stormed past his female counterpart, bristling at the seams from all the useless chatter going on. "Let us hurry and take care of these vile creatures and go home."

"With Feynriel." Merrill added.

"Perhaps."

"I see how it is." Anders gritted his teeth. "Just because the poor boy is a mage you would not mind him being sold into slavery."

"I did not say that." Fenris shrugged, taking a moment to enjoy the mages anger before continuing. "But he would be better treated than any non-mage slave. The Tevinters will gladly collar one of their own but they still appreciate talent. This Feynriel would be a slave, yes, but he would be a well kept slave with many benefits."

"And you believe that is right?" Anders was fuming now, a gentle glow of blue hidden in plain sight within the recesses of his pupils. "A cage is still a cage."

"Is this the part where you tell me how we are not so different? That the circle is just as much a prison as my own chains? Save your breath mage. You know nothing of being a slave!"

"You heartless, egotistical-"

"Stop it. Stop it! STOP IT!" Merrill screamed at the top of her lungs, hands covering her ears to drown at the bickering men and causing them to quit their argument in order to inspect the elf woman quizzically.

"Merril is right." Hawke sighed, he had rather been enjoying the fight and hoped it might get a little more entertaining but they did have pressing matters to attend to. "We're almost there so keep your voices down unless you want to warn them we're coming."

"My apologies, Hawke." Fenris was calm again, or at least gave that appearance.

Anders on the other hand was biting his tongue, staring fixatedly at an amusingly posed skeleton and trying not to rush the elf man and strangle the life out of him. This really was the worst possible team choice; everyone hated one another with the exception of Merrill who was just hated without hating.

As the group made it to the smugglers cave they found a number of unexpected things. Well, more like multiple unexpected dead bodies. The coastline was still eerily quiet, something was definitely off but none of the adventurers could so much as taste another living being beyond the salty sea air. Whoever had killed the cave entrance guards was most likely inside and waiting like a hunter sets a trap. With a little more speculation, and several exchanges of foreboding, Hawke made the decision to enter despite the danger. They had a mission and they were foreboding as a team. They could do this.

Hesitantly, Hawke went first, following the dark twist and turn of man-made pathways into a larger underground chasm. The light was horrendously spare, little more than faint glowing of luminescent mushrooms off cave walls, occasionally punctuated by a half-heartedly burning lantern. It did not take long for eyes to adjust, however, and Fenris certainly made a good portable light as his agitation rose. There were more bodies in this room, lounging about prone in all number of awkward positions and often missing heads or burned to a crispy sizzle. A mage was involved then; but was it their mage?

"I do not like this." Fenris was frowning, sword gripped threateningly in both hands as he traversed the descending depths of the smugglers hide out. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Hawke came closer to the elf as if he could somehow tap into the abilities of such large pointy ears. "All I hear is water dripping and Anders breathing down my neck."

"Sorry." Anders backed up several paces and bumped into Merrill with a second apology.

"Voices and… a fight." Fenris gritted his teeth, strengthening his grip on his great sword.

"A rival gang?"

"Perhaps." Fenris shifted uncomfortably.

"We better find out. Come on." Hawke bounded forward, staff held ready at his hip.

As they stormed into the next opening, in the tunnels, a spectacular scene was in play. Several armed men were attacking what were presumably the slavers, headed by a tall, lithe blond woman tha-

"Shit, it's Lyn Reid." Hawke gurgled out between foaming annoyance. "What is that harpy doing here?"

"Killing a rival gang apparently." Fenris raised a brow as he watched a chuckling tanned goliath of a man lift a slaver over his head then pommel him into several others. "Impressive."

"Well at least we now know your type." Anders interrupted the elf's daydreaming with a smirk of triumph and received a sneer in response.

The goliath of a man was cackling again, shouting something in Antivan as he beheaded another warrior. He was certainly enjoying himself. His companions were hardly lifting a finger of work just allowing the Antivan beast to ravage the enemy gleefully. Lyn on the other hand was bouncing around like only a rogue could, utilising the old mining platforms and pulley systems to help speed her towards victims. As she disappeared from sight, only to reappear behind a slaver mage and back stab him, an enemy combatant screamed in fury as he powered towards her sword held out like a joisting spear of death. Merrill squealed out a shrill call of warning to the woman before Hawke could cup his hands over the elf's mouth and drag her back to safety. There was a pensive moment where the four adventurers were sure Lyn was done for, Hawke not so secretly thanking Andraste for her mercy, and air was held tight within chests.

In less than the breath of a second the warrior careened forward, the tip of his blade grazing the edges of Lyn's shirt but missing vital organs as she twisted herself expertly out of his reach narrowly missing death. It was then something not quite expected occurred. The deviously minded woman threw her hands, palm out, into the man's chest as a high pitched crackle ignited and blew him backwards with such force the crack of his skull hitting the stone wall echoed throughout the cave. Heads turned and several rolled bodiless on the floor as the rival gang claimed victory and looked to their leader.

"We are victorious! Ha ha!" The antivan lifted his weapon in celebratory fashion and gave a hearty laugh. "Let us find more flesh to sate our weapons appetites!"

"Cool your heels, Carlos." Lyn was wiping her daggers clean with a dirty rag, or possibly a piece of slavers tunic. "We have company. Hawke and whatever, let us see you. I have no patience for games today."

"Good. I don't like your kind of games." Hawke came forward, trailing weary companions and a deeply rooted scowl. "What are you doing here, Lyn? Moving into the slavery business? Are you really that depraved?"

"You do think you are dreadfully handsome don't you, Hawke." Lyn shrugged, clicking her fingers to ready her men at her side. "All that bravado and swagger. You and your… friends, are still little fish in a cruel ocean fighting each wave one at a time. Be careful how you speak to bigger fish. Some of us are carnivores."

"You can try and eat me but I'm a lot to take in, as Isabela can testify." Hawke smirked, holding his hand up for a high-five but nobody wanted to touch him after that thought entered their imaginations. "Don't leave me hanging!"

"Creators forgive me…" Merrill closed her eyes and tapped his hand with her own.

"Thanks Merrill."

"Boss lady, let me kill them." Carlos was grinning like a toddler on a trip to the zoo. "I will make a gift of this ones head to you."

"Please don't." Lyn cringed at the thought and wafted the idea away as she returned her attention to Hawke. "We are here to clean out the slavers. The king does not tolerate their presence in his territory. We are not that kind of organisation."

"The king? Of Fereldan?" Hawke shared a glance with his teammates.

"Oh how little you know." Lyn chuckled, obviously enjoying the man's ignorance. "Ask your good friend Varric. I still cannot understand why he speaks so highly of you. You are… disgusting."

"And you are a skinny weasel faced-"

"AHHHHH!" Carlos screamed in fury, his eyes bulging and his face a puffy red. "HOW DARE YOU SPEAK SUCH VILE WORDS!"

"Hold him boys!" Lyn ordered, joining in with the effort to subdue the goliath of a man with her other men.

"I WILL SKIN YOU AND MAKE A FINE COAT OF YOUR HIDE!"

"Carlos!" Lyn tried to get through to the raging beast. "Calm down!"

"I WILL SUCK OUT YOUR EYES AND MAKE EARINGS OF THEM!"

"Andraste's gigantic tits!" Hawke was hiding behind Fenris now. "That's a disgusting way to die."

"I think he means it. Perhaps we should tactically retreat?" Anders offered the option.

"CARLOS!" Lyn slapped the antivan hard across the face catching his attention with a confused blink. "That's it. Deep breathes now. It's me Lyn. You remember me don't you?"

"Boss?" Carlos looked like a lost puppy, his skin tone returning to a luxurious golden tone as he calmed. "What happened?"

"It's all right. Everything is all right. You can let go now boys." The other men hesitated a second before releasing their various grips and backing away slowly. This was obviously not the first time they'd had to restrain him during a peak of frenzy. "Do you remember where you are?"

"Hmmm." He ran a hand through his short cut dark hair. "Slavers. We are killing slavers."

"That's right." She sighed with a relief filled slump of her shoulders. "You can come out now Hawke… coward."

"The man was threatening to suck out my eyes!" Hawke peered around the elf he was hiding behind with a look of indignation. "Suck them right out of my skull!"

"I am sorry, serah." Carlos scratched his head not remembering saying the words. "Sometimes I do get excited, yes. I will not suck your eyes."

"Yes, well…" Hawke shuddered at the thought.

"We are here to rescue someone." Merrill stepped forward, realising this was taking too long and by all accounts was her mission after all. "A boy from the Alienage, Feynriel."

"Then we are aligned." Lyn shrugged. "You can come with us or not but we are continuing on to wipe this vipers nest clean from Thedas."

"We will not wor-" Hawke began only to be talked over by a much louder Merrill.

"We would love any help you could give us." Merrill smiled sweetly finding Carlos smiling back at her.

"Lady, I will help you any way I can." Carlos was apparently smitten with the tiny elf as if she were a kitten to adopt.

"Come then. We have given the other slavers enough time to escape all ready." Lyn sighed, signalling her men to begin a sweep of the next tunnels.

Her men efficiently rushed forward as a unit followed swiftly by Lyn, Carlos, Merrill and the other adventurers. Hawke was trailing the very rear feeling utterly miserable at the situation but nonetheless there to help a friend in need. The men in front made quick work of several more slavers in their path before filing out, like a well oiled machine, into a new chasm filled with mining tracks, debris and a risen level where an orlesian slaver held a boy at sword point.

"Take one more step and the boy dies." The orlesian called down to the swarm below him. His associates were all dead by now but he wasn't going to let this rabble take him without a good hostage situation.

"Put the sword down, I just want to talk." Merrill began the negotiation with enough puppy eyes and pouting pleading expression to warm the darkest of souls.

"You want the boy, match the offer I have from Tevinter." He actually thought he might walk away from this with some coin. "Undamaged mage flesh. Full market price."

"Let him go unharmed and you'll get your blood money." Merrill agreed to the trade.

"What are you talking about?" Lyn seemed flabbergasted at the simpleton elf standing next to her and deftly tossed her a dagger right into the slavers eye socket. "As if I'd let him walk!" She folded her arms and signalled a lackey to go fetch her dagger.

Most everyone was standing around gaping like they were attempting to catch flies but soon came back to reality at the whimpering squeals coming off the mage boy. He was staring at the dead slaver like his life had depended on it and only blinked when the sick squelch of Lyn's man pulling the dagger free from brain matter hit his ears like a loud bang.

"You c-could of killed me!" He screamed down at Lyn getting ignored spectacularly as she relayed orders to her team.

"Hush now, Feynriel." Merrill came closer, arms spread in a soothing fashion. "You are safe."

"Who are you? Are you working for the Templars?"

"No, da'len, your mother sent me."

"Humph, hardly a difference. I can't believe her." Feynriel started to pace like a caged animal. "My whole life it was all, I'll love you and protect you, then I have some bad dreams and it's off to the Templars."

"You belong in the circle of Magi." Hawke butted in.

"Hawke!" Anders was fuming.

"Well I'm not going!" Feynriel spat back. "I was trying to get to the Dalish, they won't be afraid of my magic."

"You'd be alone among the Dalish, even more than a Dalish would be here, da'len." Merrill tried to reason with the boy.

"Compared to being held prisoner? Or made tranquil? I'll risk being lonely. Look, I know it's different in other kingdoms but here, no one helps circle mages. Anything the Templars don't like, you get the brand. The Dalish, they've had magic forever! They could teach me. I won't be a danger, I swear."

"It would be your humanity that marks you among the people. Not your magic." Merrill was sombre. "But I think they will take you." She finished with a kind-hearted smile.

"Do you really think they will take me?"

"You deserve a chance at freedom." Anders rested a hand reassuringly on the young mages shoulder.

"Pah!" Fenris stormed off somewhere less interesting.

"Thank you. I did not- I could not- in my wildest dreams I could not have foreseen this." Feynriel sighed heavily with relief and quickly hugged Merrill in appreciation. "Thank the Creators you were the one my mother hired to save me. I will forever be in your debt friend."

"Come I will take you the rest of the way." Merrill coaxed the boy onward.

"On your own Merrill?" Hawke was displeased then grumbled a groan.

"I'll come too shall I. Anders, coming?"

"Maker, no. I am shattered." The healer waved them off as they disappeared leaving him alone. Well not quite a lone. "So, you're a mage?"

"I believe that's my line." Lyn smirked, picking over a corpse for information and loot.

"I can't- I can't sense the power within you."

"Why should you? I'm a shitty mage. Can hardly light a fire some days. Did you think the daggers were just for show?" Lyn stood from her crouched position with a pouch full of looted coins and tossed them to him. "Buy yourself something nice, mage boy."

"How about I buy you dinner and you can tell me about being a 'shitty mage'?" He grinned after the sight of feminine curves, held tight by rogue armour, and a well proportioned rear swaying casually away. He could watch her walk away for hours.

"Cocky aren't you." Lyn paused; watching him over her should with an eyebrow drawn.

"That and so much more, darling."

"Ha ha." She chuckled. "You do know who I am?"

"A woman that gets hungry like every other." He shrugged.

"Hmmm." She shook her head and continued to walk after her colleagues.

"I did not hear a no."

"You did not." She confirmed though did not slow her strides.


	9. Shellfish

**Chapter 9: Shellfish**

Aeron had done as she was ordered. A day's walk from Kirkwall along the wounded coast until she found an alcove hidden below a great stone shaped like a weeping woman. Climb down the cliff and find the wooden rowboat under dried seaweed and debris. Take the boat out on the water an hour west bound and set anchor between the two small islands. Finally, place the sack over her head and wait.

It was a horrible experience being forced to sit in an old rowboat, blinded to the world and doing nothing but waiting. She wasn't even sure what to expect after this part. For hours she sat there, the boat rocking back and forth over and over. making her stomachache. Seabirds laughed at her in their shrill voices, calling others to watch the bizarre scene, as the waves giggled and slurped below her. It felt like a never ending hell, the sun beat down on her too hot for her liking until slinking away to allow the moons rise and plunging her into teeth chattering cold. There was no middle ground, only pain from the wood beams digging into her rear and discomfort from vastly different temperatures.

As she began to doze a sound caught her attention. Not a new sound but more of an amplification of an old one. The gentle waves from before were now rushing and parting loudly until finally there was a bump against her boat that made her gasp.

"Are you the informant?" A gravelly male voice questioned.

"Y-yes." She stuttered more from cold than fear.

"Hold on." The voice ordered as he began to do something that made the boat rock alarmingly. "Keep the blindfold on." He affirmed as the rocking slowed back to its previous pace.

"What's happening?" Aeron questioned the air, not knowing where the man was now.

She was greeted with silence that made her pause her useless head swiveling in order to listen harder. There was a grunt of effort on someone else's part followed swiftly by a trickle of water and her rowboat being tugged into the after current of another ship. Aeron gripped the sides of her boat, trying desperately to steady herself and stop from falling into untested water. A long stretch of time passed; one she was sure was lengthened by them going around in circles several times. These people really were cautious.

There was a jolt, followed by a loud thud as both boats collided, making Aeron pitch forward and land awkwardly on her knees. She felt around trying to right herself as the sound of rope being tied filled her ears, punctuated by the echoes' of water splashing against a dock. So they were in a cave. A pair of hands latched onto her shoulders, helping her rise to her feet before guiding her carefully from boat to dry land. She hated this, being dependant on someone else to help her reach her destination but this was how she had to play.

There was a scream of air as it breathed through tunnels out into the vast open world. The man's warm arms covered her upper back and shoulders magnificently as he coaxed her forward making sure to gently steady the woman, in his charge, whenever a ditch of earth or rock quaked her steps. He was tentative, almost caring in his maneuvering despite the lengthy time it took to pass mere feet of turns and tunnels out into a brighter room. She knew it was brighter because of the faint hiss of gold burning through the gaps in the sack, over her head, and the rustle of a fire burning cheerfully nearby. There was a strange smell to the air, like licorice mixed with salt and charcoal. It was overpowering and stung her nostrils but even that could not keep her attention away from a woman's screams somewhere in the distance.

It was alarming; she sounded in pain but too far away to help. Was she being raped, murdered, tortured? Creator's knew. Whatever was going on did not seem to faze the tentative man at her side as he guided her carefully to a comfy chair by the fire.

"I apologies for the wait. We can never be too careful who is watching." He spoke up, moving around somewhere to her left and shifting through items. "Would you like some wine?"

"Can I remove the sack?"

"I am afraid not." He sounded thoughtful for a moment with several hmm's whilst the woman in the distance screamed much louder than previously. "But I can switch to something better. Close your eyes."

"Why?"

"Close them and I will blindfold you with some fabric."

"Fine." She sighed, closing her eyes and waiting.

As he came closer she could smell his breath now, bitter sweet mingling with the musky scent of man. She could feel the heat from his body reach the naked skin on her arms and couldn't help the dizzy response of animalistic hunger that caused her to swallow. She'd never even seen the man but he just oozed sexuality that made her small clothes damp with excitement. Maybe it was actually the fear of the unknown reversing into something more pleasant that really created this burning feeling in the pit of her stomach but she didn't care any longer as she attempted to breath more of him in discreetly through her nose.

"That's better." He said, pulling away from her and tossing the old sack. "Now you can enjoy that wine."

"Thank you." She blinked to test the intensity of fabric binding her eyes and found there was nothing but darkness to see.

"Here." He spoke softly, a cup brushing her hand as she stretched her fingertips to grip it.

It took several attempts to reach her mouth but when she finally managed to steady the rim of the cup to her lips oh how good it tasted. The wine was sweet with just a hint of sour and the aroma blossomed like a garden of fragrances in her minds eye. She wasn't sure what the wine was made with but she'd stake her life on it that this was one of those ludicrously expansive ones the Orleisians made.

"It is good isn't it?" The man chuckled, his laughter like music reverberated by the cave they were in.

"Yes." She hadn't realized she was smiling until she moved to take another sip and found her lips sprayed wide around the mouth of the cup eager for more.

That woman was screaming again, a blood curdling exhaustion filled sound of primal agony that made Aeron jolt almost dumping her wine to the ground. Just as she was about to say something, to rip the blindfold from her eyes and charge to the rescue, a new cry filled the tunnels around them. It was a babe, crying out to the world desperate for air and love.

Aeron released a heavy, shuddering, breath that had been squeezing her chest tight with constrictive force. It was a relief greater than anything she could have imagined.

"My son or daughter." The man chuckled, humming his approval at the sweet symphony of music his child sang.

"Are you the king?"

* * *

><p>"The king?" Varric leaned forward in his chair, eager to hear the news. "You mean you saw him?"<p>

"No I didn't see him. Or meet him for that matter." Garrett took a sneaky drink from his mug. "I just want to know who he is. Lyn said to ask you."

"He is… by the stones, Hawke." Varric ran a hand through his well-kept hair messing it up a little. "We do not want to get involved with him. Nobody even knows if he really is a him. It could be a woman."

"It could be Lyn." Hawke frowned disapprovingly, rubbing his chin with deeper thinking. "Why is he so dangerous?"

"He's rich, he's powerful and he's unknown." Varric shrugged as if that was enough. "You cannot trust a man you cannot have killed. People have been trying to find him for years but it is like he is a ghost."

"Why do people want him dead?"

"Why else? Coin!" Varric laughed, attempting to straighten his hair back into its tidy ponytail. "The king can get you anything and send it anywhere you want it to go. He has contacts throughout Thedas from the qunari to the dwarves."

"So he's a smuggler?" Hawke swirled the contents of his mug mulling over the information he was receiving.

"No, Hawke." Varric shook his head solemnly. "He is THE smuggler. You do not smuggle unless the king has supplied it, transported it or Ancestor's know what. He has his fingers in pies all over the world."

"You mean even the Coterie work for him?"

"No, I wouldn't put it that way." Varric tapped a thoughtful rhythm on the table. "He is their wholesaler."

"Hmmm." Hawke leaned back in his chair, downing the last dreg of his drink before staring thoughtfully at the ceiling of Varric's rather lovely room. "But he isn't into slave smuggling."

"Not anymore. He was once, a long time ago but then something changed. There has been a war between the king and slavers for years now. When they setup for business the king's men swoop in and drive them out."

"I wonder what changed."

"Who knows and who cares, Hawke." Varric got to his feet. "Only good slaver is a dead slaver. Come on, let's go get some drinks downstairs. Isabela will be furious if I keep you detained any longer."

"Blasted woman…" Hawke frowned, dawdling after the dwarf down into the crowded bar.

Isabela, of course, paid them no mind, as she was busy drinking whiskey and wrinkling her nose at a rather obnoxious poet. Hawke thought of rescuing her but then recalled being kicked out of her room that morning and swiftly about turned to the group's usual table. Merrill was there, sitting between Anders and Fenris, and dealing out cards for a friendly game. Even Aveline had decided to grace them with her presence, though her absence could not be helped as she did have a job with real duties unlike the rest of them.

"Brother." Carver muttered darkly in a sort of greeting as the mage pulled the seat next to him.

"How is mother?"

"Fine." Carver took his dealt cards and began pouring over them deliberately.

"Are you playing too, Hawke?" Merrill queried, tossing several cards in the two newcomers direction when a nod was received.

The group was silent for a time; all eyes on cards and the occasional finger nail being chewed anxiously. It wasn't until the second round that words began to flow easily between drinking and adding coin to the growing pile in the center of the table. It wasn't particularly riveting conversation either just the usual dribble of question and answers about general going on. Aveline had been rather interested with the tale of the slavers den but soon quieted down with a satisfied nod at hearing of the enemies demise. It saved her and her men some work and freed them up for more pressing matters; like training.

By the time they had reached their fourth round of cards and drinks the sounds of laughter finally began to ring dispelling the tired awkwardness. Even Anders and Fenris were glaring at each other less and less but that could also be because Isabela had finally joined them and was flashing ample cleavage from across the table.

"Oh a royal flush!" Merrill cheered as she looked at her cards.

"Merrill…" Anders sighed followed swiftly by a chorus of 'fold' around the table.

"Did I do something wrong? I was sure I was going to finally win big." She sighed, scraping the meager amount of coins from the pile towards her.

"Oh sweetheart," Isabela crooned, her cheeks blossoming into a rosy drunken tint, "you know you are not supposed to show or tell anyone your hand."

"Right I see." Merrill pouted and ducked her head apologetically. "Sorry everyone."

"Don't you fret. Come by tomorrow and I'll teach you some of my moves."

"If you are going to show her how you cheat then I want in as well." Anders cut in.

"And I." Fenris frowned, not wanting to be left out of such a lucrative lesson.

"Aren't you two precious." Isabela grinned like an alley cat about to pounce. "I am sure there are other things I could teach you, together."

"I am right here you know." Hawke sulked, looking away at a rather lovely arse attached to a mediocre bar wench.

"I was going to ask if you wanted to come along as well."

"Eck, I think I was just sick in my mouth." Anders looked away from the harlot of his nightmares. She was attractive but riddled with diseases; best to keep appendages out of her.

"Suit yourself. What about you two?"

"Serah Garrett!" A chubby and cheerful girl appeared behind the contemplating mage. "Oh and-and Anders."

"Juliannah?" Hawke turned to find her practically pressed nose to nose and leaned back a little.

"You remember me!" Juliannah giggled then looked over to the empty seat where Anders had previously sat. "Where did Anders go?"

"Don't you worry about him, dear." Isabela grinned, watching the way Garrett's eyes went unfocused and wanting at the sight of the plump princess. "He probably just needed to get back to his clinic and polish his staff."

"What?" Juliannah tilted her head in confusion and soon found a strong pair of arms coaxing her around to an occupied chair.

"Carver move!" Garrett kicked his brother hard enough to start the younger Hawke into a fit of mumbled swearing before shuffling up and into Anders old seat. "Ignore Isabela. She says silly things nobody understands. Sit down, let me buy you a drink."

"Hey!" Isabela folded her arms giving her best-crossed expression.

"Oh that's very kind of you. Thank you for the seat um, Carver?" She sat down and instantly blushed as she could now see all the eyes focused on her around the circular table. "Oh Serah Varric as well."

"How are you, Princess?" Varric smiled warmly.

"Oh I am just great! I got this new fabric in from Antiva just this afternoon and it is too die for!" She squealed happily. "Oh and mummy says I might be allowed to have a bunny because I asked her about getting a mabari again but she doesn't like dogs-I think I told you that before- anyway I might be getting a bunny! I don't know what they eat though. Will it get as big as a mabari you think?"

"You could come to my place and play with my mabari any time you want." Garrett offered. "Bounce has been whining for days to see you."

"Really?"

"Would I lie to you?"

"I-I don't know." Juliannah looked thoughtful then around at the table to find it a lot emptier than it had been. "Where have your friends gone to?"

"Carver and Isabela just had to step out for some air, Princess." Varric explained, his master skill at story telling working overtime. "And I think Aveline said she had an emergency with the guard."

"Oh that sounds dreadful. I hope it isn't anything serious."

"Forget them." Hawke waved a hand dispelling their memory.

"Aren't you going to introduce me to your um, elf friends?"

"What? Right, yes." Hawke cleared his throat and gestured over to Merrill and Fenris. "Fenris with the tattoos and brooding-"

"I do not brood!" Fenris brooded into his mug of ale.

"And Merrill with the tattoos and smiling." He finished his introduction.

"I'm Juliannah, nice to meet you." She gave them a little wave.

"Did you say something about fabric, Juliannah?" Merrill leaned forward on the table to get a little closer. "Are you a tailor then?"

"Who me? I uh, well I suppose I sort of am?" She looked confused then shrugged her shoulders. "I like to make things but it's not like a job or anything. Mother says I don't need a job and I might get hurt if I had one."

"Hurt? Why?" Fenris was now leaning as far back in his chair as he could make it tilt.

"Juliannah's mother is Lyn Reid." Hawke cleared his through hoping nobody would look too shocked at the information.

"I… can see why your mother would worry then." Fenris raised an eyebrow as he looked between Hawke and Juliannah. The mage was obviously besotted with his rival's daughter. It would end in tragedy no doubt. "I am surprised she has allowed you into a place like this without protection."

"Oh I'm not alone." Juliannah giggled and began pointing out random people around the bar. "That's one of mummy's men and that's another and over there is a whole bunch of them and see him there, glaring at you? I don't know him but I'm sure he is one of mothers."

"Y-your mother isn't here is she?" Hawke was suddenly nervous as he calculated the number of possible combatants.

"Oh yes, she's in the back talking to the Coterie or something." She shrugged nonchalantly as if this was a normal occurrence and Hawke's manly bits weren't on the line. "She told me to wait out here for her and then I saw you and just had to come over."

"Well I- it was lovely seeing you again." Garrett got up out of his seat; sweat pouring down his forehead in great anxious waves. "But I am afraid I do not feel very well."

"Oh you do look pale. You should go home and rest." Juliannah followed suit standing and then leaned in and gave him a tender hug. "I wish you a speedy recovery, Garrett. Maybe I will come and visit you tomorrow… with fruit!"

"Ha ha, yes that would be lovely." Garrett faked a chesty cough. "Or maybe it would be better if you did not come. I could be infectious and I wouldn't want you to catch it."

"How sweet of you to think of me when you are so ill." She fluttered her eye lashes, holding her hands to her bosom, which made him groan with eager want.

"I should go. Bye." He rushed off with a slight limp as his pants were continuing to tighten uncomfortably.

"Well that was strange." Merrill scratched her head as she watched their fearless leader retreating. "He was perfectly healthy just a moment ago."

"I believe I am feeling a cold coming on as well." Fenris pushed his empty mug back onto the table.

"I hope it's not anything too serious." Merrill worried, giving a test cough to check she was not coming down with anything too.

"Goodnight Fenris!" Juliannah waved, sitting back in her seat and grinning over at Varric and Merrill. "Oh are you playing cards?"


	10. Feeling Crabby

**Chapter 10: Feeling crabby**

Aeron had barely been home more than an hour or so before there was more trouble to take care of. The journey too and fro across the wounded coast had taken the best part of three days but at least it was over now. Being blindfolded and fed expensive wine whilst having to deliver memorised shipping and accounting information was perhaps one of the most bizarre and disturbing things Lyn had so far ordered her to do. _Why can't things be normal?_ She inwardly sighed, _kill some whiney shem or set light to a rivals house for the crazy old bats precious gang._

"Aeron!" Grandma shouted angrily from the other room.

"I'm going grandma, I'm going." Aeron called back, sitting on the edge of her creaking bed and rubbing the hour or so sleep from her eyes.

She couldn't even be asked to put her armour on she was so blindly tired and instead dug her sword from it's sheath, that was leaning against the wall, and wobbly padded barefoot to the front door. There was a trickle of lamplight and twilight that blinded her bloodshot eyes as she stepped out but the sounds of raised voices kept her wits in check.

"We didn't do it!" An elf youth screamed, at a selection of guards, being held back firmly by several other scruffy looking elf boys.  
>"You were seen by witnesses that described your likeness fleeing the scene of the crime." A guardsman grunted out between several finger wags of reproach.<br>"And let me guess," all turned to stare bewildered at the irate looking woman in nothing but a threadbare vest and leggings, "the description was of some suspicious and grubby looking assailants, probably elves, heading towards the Alienage."  
>"Return to your home, serah." A second guard interrupted, obviously the experienced lead. "This is a matter for the guard."<br>"No." Aeron gritted her teeth, taking several steps toward the nervous looking guards feeling up their weapons. "When you brought it down here, shouting and screaming and waking up my grandma you made this a matter for me."

"You tell them!" A scruffy elf boy hollered his support from behind her. When had the delinquents gone to hide behind her back?  
>"Serah, you are aiding and abetting known criminals!"<p>

"Oh they're known now? What are their names?"

"Move aside or we will be forced to arrest you along with these fugitives."

"A sketchy description is not proof of criminal activity. You show me proof this lot did something worth arresting and I'll step aside." Aeron glared, sword swinging in a circular pattern of deliberation that kept the guards hypnotised. "Better yet, go and bring your witnesses down here to identify them personally."  
>"We will not endanger innocent Kirkwall citizens by bringing them to this place." The lead guard growled dangerously. "These criminals will be taken into custody and identified by credible witnesses there."<p>

"After you've routinely interrogated them and threatened them into a forced confession of course."

"We support the law and follow its rules carefully. No one is forced to confess to a crime they did not commit." He preached as if reading from a pre-written statement. "You have been listening to false rumours, serah."

"Fuck you. You think we don't know what you lot get up to in that big ole keep of yours?"

"Sir…" The other guard cut off his lead before his rebuke could be heard.

"What is it?" He spat, furious with indignation.

"I think we need to leave." The other guard swallowed, his grip on the hilt of his weapon tightening with every ear piercing breath that broke the pregnant silence around them.

Both guardsmen looked around the Alienage courtyard at a series of scowling elves with drawn bows. Most of the elves had chosen to cover their faces with scarves and such in order to keep a level of anonymousness; though a few had opted for blatant disregard of the law, in favour of protecting the young elves and showing the true depths of their resentment. It was perhaps not the wisest of action but who else would protect their own.

"I'll remember you." The lead guardsmen shifted his gaze back to the half-dressed woman with red-eyes and scowled his disdain. "When we come back…" He trailed off, leaving his threat as open and inviting as a public funeral before turning and storming off with his fellow guard.  
>"That showed them." It was the big-mouthed elf youth squealing in victory. Why couldn't he stay quiet? "They won't be coming back anyti-Ahhh let me go!" He squealed like a newborn piglet, flailing his skinny arms and legs whilst he dangled helplessly against the wall held up by a well-toned arm pressed to his chest.<br>"What did you do?" Aeron was furious and glaring so hard the youth literally pissed his pants whilst the other boys tried to scurry away before getting caught by angry parents.

"Ma! MA!" He was crying now and the piss puddle was starting to head for his captives naked feet; so she dropped him.

"Oh my poor boy." His mother appeared and immediately began coddling him before a loud 'thwack' sound cut through the air. "What did you do?"

"Owwww!" He held onto his bruised and freshly slapped cheek. "It was nothing! I swear, ma! They blew it way out of proportion!"

There was another 'thwack' this time from across the courtyard as another mother was shaking a confession out of her child. Not wanting to be involved any longer, and groaning at the sight of sunlight emerging behind the Lowtown skyline, Aeron retreated back into her hovel for a quick wash and change. She had to get to work and being late put her in more danger from Lyn's wrath than anything the guard could dish out.

* * *

><p>Making her way into the Reid mansion, Aeron was not surprised to find Juliannah in high spirits dancing around the lobby with a sweet sticky pastry in one hand. The girl was plotting something devious and most likely love life related as usual. The way she kept grinning at Aeron made the bottom of her stomach wish to evacuate the building in one swift motion. She already knew her orders for the day before Lyn even uttered them.<p>

"Watch my daughter. She has some errands to run in town." Lyn muttered over a steaming cup of something bitter smelling and rubbed tiredly at her throbbing head. It looked as if she'd been in another heated argument with someone that thought a good debating point was a knife. "Watch out for Byron. He's in another of his foul moods."

"Has he threatened Juliannah again?" Aeron queried, sorting out the level of wariness she should remain at for the rest of the day.

"No." Lyn paused to sip from her cup then made a gagging noise as the flavour reached her taste buds. "But don't trust him not to try something. Dismissed, go, leave." She wafted a hand behind her, dislodging Aeron from her standing position and coaxing her out the door.

The moment the warrior had closed the door behind her a beaming bundle of squishy pudding mix launched itself at her wrapping it tubby arms around her neck and dragging her into a tight embrace. Aeron froze, unsure of the contact and wholly wishing she could react in a violent manner but that would really anger Lyn.

"Oh Aeron!" Juliannah chirruped. "I missed you. Where have you been? I've been waiting to go out since yesterday and mother made me walk around with that big scary guy the day before and he wouldn't stop telling me these horribly dirty jokes. It was just awful!"

"Yes, messere." Aeron stared at the ceiling, praying to the creators to be struck by lightening or let go of. The girl reeked of flowery perfume that burned the hairs from her nostrils. "I apologize for my absence."

"Oh that's all right." Juliannah giggled, finally letting go and rushing off to retrieve something from the kitchen; failing to notice the great heaving sigh of relief the other woman released. "Should we go then?" She returned with a heavy looking basket covered over with a square of fabric to hide the contents. "Garrett has been waiting for my goodies since yesterday."

"I think he's been waiting a lot longer than that."

"Sorry what?" Juliannah blinked, unsure of the other woman's meaning.

"I-uh nothing." Aeron cleared her throat, looking away to hide her wide-eyed expression at her inner thoughts said aloud. "Let me take that for you, messere."

"Oh how kind of you." She dropped the heavy basket into the warrior's waiting hands and swooned out into the morning sunshine.

"Do you know the way, messere?"

"Yes." Juliannah skipped ahead whilst Aeron lengthened her strides to keep up. The dumpling really was in an eager mood today. Hopefully she wasn't falling for yet another unobtainable man. "I had mother's men draw me a map." She filtered through her pockets for a food stained piece of paper. "It's right near the Alienage. You live there don't you?"

"Yes, messere."

"Oh is it nice?" Juliannah seemed more caught up in a daydream than actually listening for an answer. "Elves are so pretty. They must live in a pretty place."

"Uh… yes, messere." Aeron didn't have the heart to tell her the truth of the world. It might actually kill her or something. "Why are you visiting Ha- Garrett?"  
>"Oh didn't I tell you? He has a cold the poor dear. He ran home feeling dreadfully ill the other night."<br>"The other night?"

"Yes, when I was at um…" she thought about it for a moment, "the… Hanged man?"  
>"You shouldn't go there, messere. It's dangerous." Aeron frowned. "He is dangerous."<p>

"Don't be silly." Juliannah giggled. "Garrett is a perfect gentleman."

"Urgh…" Aeron groaned quietly. She really was falling for a new man-toy. Time for a different ploy. "Have you seen Anders?"  
>"Anders?" She hummed the name with a blush. "Yes he was there too but then he had to go. He is so busy and selfless and wonderfully handsome. We should visit him again and… and bring him something."<br>"That's a good idea." Thank the creators this was working. The less she thought about that Hawke fellow the better. "Maybe he would like some herbs?"

"What for?"

"Medicine. For his clinic."

"Oh is that how you make medicine." She giggled again. "Yes then we should get some of that. But… where do we get that? Should we um, pick some from outside the city?"

"No, messere." Aeron sighed. "You can buy plenty of herbs from the Gallows."

"Oh!" Juliannah exclaimed as realisation dawned on her. "Yes we should do that. But first… I think we're here. Is this… it?" She seemed disappointed as she looked up at the hovel door.  
>"Yes, messere. This is the Hawke residence." Aeron lugged the heavy basket up the steps to the door ahead of her stunned charge. "Shall I knock?"<br>"No I… I will… I didn't realise they were so poor." Juliannah bit her tongue as she realised what she had just uttered and squeaked in a mixture of pain and disgust. "That wasn't a nice thing to say was it. Oh my… um… all right I can do this. Hmmm." She took a deep breath to settle her nerves then knocked on the crusty door, getting sprinkled with dust and flaking wood in the process.

There was a pause followed by the whining sounds of a dog inside and then a very grumpy sounding man shouting. Juliannah was a little scared by all the commotion occurring behind closed doors but swallowed it down rather well and held her ground. Finally, after what sounded like a lengthy debate within, the door opened with a young man holding a sword rather threateningly.

"He is not here." Carver growled at the two women before double taking and realising they were not Gamlen's debt collectors. "Aeron!" He locked eyes with the frowning half-elf completely ignoring the tubby, petrified looking rear of the year winner to his right. "What are you doing here?" He seemed mildly pleased to see her.  
>"W-we're here to um… is Garrett still unwell?" Juliannah stuttered still quaking at the deadly looking blade in the man's grip. "We brought fruit." She smiled, unconvinced, as she pointed to the heavy basket in Aeron's arms.<br>"Garrett? There is nothing wrong with him." Carver put away his sword in order to cross his arms and better scowl in venomous disdain for his brother. "He went out last night without me to investigate a missing woman and has not come home."  
>"He-he's missing! Oh my!" Juliannah was bordering hysterical as she cupped her hands to her face. "And sick too! Aren't you worried?"<p>

"He is probably at the Hanged man with Isabela. That is where he usually is."

"I don't understand. Why would he be there all night instead of at home in bed resting?" Juliannah's brow furrowed in confusion as Carver shared a glance of disbelief with Aeron. Could she really be that stupid? "Oh I understand! She's a healer!"

"N-"

"Yes!" Aeron cut off the man in questions younger brother before he could completely shatter her charges delusion of a happy world where senseless sex did not occur. "She is very good at healing men in need." Aeron's eyes pleaded with Carver's for assistance.

"Yes, that Isabela is really something." Carver smirked. "Men, women, mabari… anyone in need of her services can visit at all hours."  
>"She sounds so nice." Juliannah smiled imagining being someone people looked up to like Isabela one day. "Oh the basket." She spun around and re-claimed the heavy wickerwork from her guard. "This is for Garrett. To help him get better."<p>

"Right." Carver took the gift with a neutral dislike. "I am sure he will appreciate it."

"Mmhmm." Juliannah smiled, soaking in her feel good for the day. "Well um… we better be going then if Garrett is not here. Please tell him I stopped by and hope he is feeling better soon."

"Yeah." Carver shrugged. "It's… good to see you again, Aeron."

"Carver." Aeron nodded in his direction before trailing off after her charge.

"Who was he again?" Juliannah questioned as Aeron walked up beside her.

"Carver, Garrett's brother."

"Oh I didn't know he had a brother." She had that glint in her eyes again.

"Anders?" Aeron dropped the name as more of an incentive to stop thinking about the younger Hawke than an actual question of direction.

"Yes. The Gallows first though. We get to take a boat ride!" Juliannah giggled clapping her hands as she spied the ships bobbing in the dock.

* * *

><p>As they entered the Gallows, the smell of oppression was almost overwhelming; not that Juliannah noticed. Fearful mages scurried amongst dark corners, desperate and needy for the light of freedom. The only ones that didn't seem to be utterly miserable were the shopkeepers peddling their wares with a jovial smile of questionable authenticity and the tranquil that felt nothing to begin with. Commoners, nobles and the odd ship crew clung neatly to their side of the large courtyard discussing creators knew what whilst Templars marched up and down showing off their shiny armour. The whole drama of it all was starting to give Aeron a headache as they milled from stall to stall. Juliannah was having a marvellous time picking up shiny baubles, runes and gems normally used for mage work; but apparently could be used for scarves and things too.<p>

The longer they stayed the more painful the headache became for Aeron. It was starting to feel like a buzzing deep within the marrow of her bones. She tried to breath through it, eyes half lidded to restrict the bright sunlight from increasing the intensity of pain as she kept a vigil for bad influences after her charge. She probably need not worry so hard in a place brimming with Templars eager to defend young maidens honours and such but she didn't like the way they were staring at her. Why were they staring at her anyway, she wasn't that strange a sight in Kirkwall, home of Qunari and ex-slaves? Maybe she was imagining things; she could hardly see most of the Templars eyes from under those helmets anyway. Maybe they were just staring at Juliannah's huge rear currently sprawled out on show as the girl leaned over to admire a selection of shiny things. _Yeah that's it, you're paranoid Aeron_, she muttered internally and closed her eyes to regain her senses.

As she embraced the darkness her eyelids brought forth an image of light suddenly burst into being causing her lids to unravel wide and open at the Gallows around her. The world was on fire. She looked down at her hands, eyes drifting to follow the pattern of flames dancing across her arms before turning back to look at the walls around her. There was a roaring sound that ordinarily comes with a great barrage of fire and a burning taste in the air of ash and heated corpses. What was happening? Were the mages putting on some illusion? It felt warm but did not burn her, this blazing Kirkwall. People were still walking around, Templars staring, a shopkeeper rearranging his goods on the stall in front of her. Were they not seeing this too? They were on fire!

"Serah?" A hand, cool and heavy from the gauntlets he wore rested reassuringly on her shoulder. "Serah, are you well?"

"What?" Aeron turned, blinking heavily as she looked into a pair of brown eyes. The vision she was having dispersed the moment he had touched her.  
>"You have been standing there staring at the wall for some time." The Templar frowned, drinking in the full package in front of him as if sensing something amiss. "You have unusual eyes." He finally stated, his expression suddenly blank.<p>

"I-hmm ha ha." She laughed, almost manically in sudden unease before something she had forgotten came back to haunt her. "Juliannah!" She spun around, pulling out of the Templar's tightening grip and breaking his line of thought. "Did you see where the big uh…" Aeron held her hands up to her chest to mimic the shape of a much larger bosom than she had, "girl that was standing here went to?"

"I-I believe I know the woman you speak of." The Templar cleared his throat. Was he blushing too? "She headed towards the merchants dock with several men."

"Men? Several men… shit!" Aeron balled her fists, muscles clenching in a burst of adrenaline as she continued to curse and take off into a run.

Charging across the courtyard she ducked and weaved the loitering pedestrians looking for a sign of a big girl with a big horde of men. What had that brat gotten herself into now? Why couldn't she just stay put and stop talking to strangers? She was too old to be behaving like a naughty five year old that still believed Griffins existed.

Seeing no sign of the group, Aeron ducked into an alcove that lead out to the merchants dock. The light was dim here, the walls giving off the scent of damp, dead and decomposition amongst the corridors lined with empty crates and barrels. She must have gone with the men out to the docks, perhaps onto a ship. Reaching for the gate out to the jetty she pushed on the rusty bars only to find it locked tight. Aeron went wide-eyed, her heart beating furiously in her chest as she realised how badly she'd managed to screw things up. If it was a rival gang or even one of Lyn's own, like Byron, that girl was not coming back in one piece.

"Fuck!" Aeron bellowed kicking the gate as hard as she could. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" She kicked it again then threw her weight into it trying to dislodge the ocean-rusted hinges.

"Serah. Serah!" A pair of strong arms wrapped themselves around her dragging her back from yet another useless body ram of the gate. "Calm yourself."

"I have to get in there!" Aeron flailed, trying to fight the much larger man's strong grip on her.

"I understand. Please, relax."

"Relaxing will not get me in there!" Aeron spat, pausing a moment to catch her breath before struggling with a little more zest only to find herself pinned face first into the mould covered wall.

"I will not ask you again." He growled beside her ear, his armour pressed painfully into her back with the reassurance he could cause a lot more damage if he so chose. "I assume your friend has been… coerced into accompanying those men beyond this point." There was a grunting sound that the Templar took as a yes. "Then you are in luck, serah. I am the Knight-Captain and I have a key."

He released her, slow and hesitantly before fishing on his belt for a ring of mix-match keys. Aeron rolled sideways until her sore back rested against the cold wall and watched him sidelong flicking through his jingling selection of keys until his brow ignited with triumphant at finding what was assumed to be the correct one. There was a tinkle of metal followed by a click and scraping as the gate was opened, the Knight-Captain nodding to the warrior to follow him onto the dock.

"What is your name?"

"Aeron." She answered without hesitation; the authority in his voice was enough to make her weak at the knees.

"Aeron, do you have any idea who those men may have been?" The Knight-Captain questioned as he made his way to the shipmaster's makeshift office.

"I-They may have been working for a man named Byron Costello." She admitted as they reached a busy looking man hovering over a mound of paperwork and pouches full of coin.

"I'm busy." The shipmaster grumbled without looking up.

"This is Templar business, serah."

"I don't care if it's-Oh Knight-Captain Cullen." The man swallowed back his words with a loud gulp. "What can I do for you?"

"I need to see the ship manifest."

"The ship manifest? But why?"

"I am searching for a ship possibly owned by a Byron Costello."  
>"Let me just…" The shipmaster trailed off as he thumbed through a large and battered book of tables and boring information. "No… I don't see a Byron Costello."<p>

"Wait… there." Aeron slammed her palm down onto the page before the man could close the book shut. "Evelyn Reid. Which one is this?"

"I don't have to tell you nothing." The shipmaster shoved the strange woman to the side before a second hand was slammed down onto the book he was trying desperately to hide. "Knight-Captain, please do not do that. The manifest is very delicate!"

"Tell me where this ship is." Cullen continued to hold his hand in place, his fierce expression practically beating the quivering shipmaster into some sort of confession.

"It's the fourth one down."

"Thank you for your co-operation." The Knight-Captain released his hold on the book and moved away at a sprint. "This, Evelyn Reid, what has she to do with Byron Costello?"

"I-nothing." Aeron lied, having to run to keep up with the Templar's longer legs.

"Do not lie to me." Cullen abruptly stopped, his arm launching at her chainmail shirt and lifting her to eye level. "If you wish to save your friend you will not lie to me, serah."

"Get off!" Aeron swung a punch more out of instinct than actual desire to harm the man. He on the other hand was about as fazed as the tranquil mages that lined the Gallows and easily caught her swinging arm with his free hand. By the Creators he was big.

"Evelyn Reid, serah?" He spoke the name slowly, letting her dangle a foot from the ground as if she weighed as much as a kitten; but at least he was still polite about it.

"She's her mother."

"Your friend's mother has kidnapped her?"

"What? No! Byron and her mother work for the same uh… business."

"So you believe this Byron has taken your friend in order to… harm his business partner and is using the mother's ship?"

"Y-yeah that's pretty accurate." Aeron was trying desperately not to move now, her shirt was starting to slip upwards exposing her stomach to the cold and the chest armour she wore was not tight enough to stop from going over her head as well. "Please, messere, put me down." She swallowed back the sense of fright that was starting to prickle at the corners of her eyes. Juliannah may possibly be dead by now and she didn't like the way the Templar could manhandle her so easily either. It really wasn't a good day and why did she feel so weak at the knees around him even when suspended above the ground?  
>"I apologize, I had to make you believe my threat." He co-operated with her request, lowering her to the ground and releasing his hold on her arm and shirt. "Follow me, serah." He walked on ahead as she paused to readjust her clothing and armour.<p>

The mismatched pair walked around the fourth ship along the jetty until finding a way inside. The walk way was empty, the only crew insight further along the large ship re-adjusting cargo and taking a cigarette break. Either way, they did not notice the two walk over to the lower hatch and climb into the bowels of the ship. They heard no screaming, that was possibly a good sign unless the girl was dead already.

"This way." Cullen signalled for Aeron to follow him down a long corridor towards the sounds of voices.

It was dark inside the ship, light filtering from under a doorway into the corridor giving the pair a sense of knowledge of their surroundings; though the constant rock of the boat did not help matters. Following the light, the Knight-Captain burst through the door with his weapon drawn causing a scurrying of frightened sailors.

"You men," he began his address, "we are searching for a young woman we believe to have come on board this vessel in the last hour or so. Where is she?"

"Ain't no woman here." A sailor with his back to the wall shook his head wildly.

"Don't feed us bullshit and expect us to ask for seconds." Aeron was furious. "Where is Juliannah?"

"Jewel?" Another sailor spoke up looking confused at the others. "She ain't here. Is she?"

"I don't think so…" The third and final sailor shrugged with a scratch of his head.

"What about Byron Costello?" Cullen questioned, feeling for a moment he had gotten himself into something quite a deal less sinister than he originally believed.

"Oh, he's down in the hold. With the cargo." The first sailor grinned, happy to be useful; especially as useful generally meant alive. "But he doesn't want to be disturbed."

"I bet he doesn't." Aeron stormed from the room, Cullen trailing behind her after delivering his thanks to the sailors for the information. "This way." She ducked down a staircase into the hold, a huge expanse of the lower ship filled with a labyrinth of goods.

"I get the feeling these goods are not legal." Cullen frowned as he inspected an open crate filled with something that looked suspiciously like lyrium.

"If you don't look at it, it isn't there." Aeron pulled him away from the contraband.

"An interesting philosophy, serah." He laughed dryly.

"I'm just full of-"

"HEY! What are you doing down here? This is private property!" A large scowling mono-browed thug appeared from behind a stack of barrels. "Get out of here!"

"Well if it isn't Dusker." Aeron glared, her sword free from its binds with a whisper of air. "Tell me where Byron has Juliannah and maybe I won't hack off your-"

"Go jump in the void, Aeron." Dusker cut her off, brandishing an axe so big he was definitely compensating for something. "Bringing a Templar down here is as good as ratting the gang to the guard."

"What gang? Are you in league with this smuggler?" Cullen looked between the two, taking a step back to reconsider his sides.

"I am not in league with anyone? Why does everyone keep accusing me of being in league with stuff?" Aeron huffed then made a leap for Dusker whilst his attention was caught on laughing at the Templar and not-in-league-with-anyone-but-sort-of-an-elf dynamic.

"Bwah! Get off you mangy whore!" Dusker growled as she caught him right in the hugely round tummy and toppled him to the floor.

"I am not mangy!" She hissed back, plying her fist to his face several times until he made a muffled cry about his nose and wrestled her beneath him.

"You two bronze bitch!" Dusker pinned her down with his fat mass, his tubby digits finding the collar of her shirt before beating the back of her head against the floor with enough force to make her see stars. Why was she feeling so weak she couldn't even kick Dusker's lard of a slow arse? "I'm gonna- Bwah!" He squealed as a pair of gauntleted hands pried him loose from the woman beneath him and threw him spectacularly into a large keg that exploded with beer.

"Aeron, are you all right?" Cullen kneeled at her side as she rolled over, gripping her head with both arms.

"Shit…." She shook with a mixture of pain and fury. How stupid must she look right now to the bloody Templar. Oh and now beer was getting in her hair. "Uck, help me up." She groaned as the Knight-Captain did as he was requested with a humorous smirk.

"Your… friend appears to be unconscious." He pointed out the crumpled form of Dusker dripping with lashings of beer and managing to snore peacefully as if he'd lost consciousness there on purpose.  
>"Leave him. I need to find Juliannah." Aeron hissed as she touched the back of her head and felt the warm sticky residue of blood.<p>

"Take this." The Templar pushed a small vial into her free hand and quickly began the search again. _What a nice man_, Aeron watched after the clunking half man-half-steel bucket and swallowed down the healing potion he had given her.

As she followed him around another stack of crates it became apparent they were definitely not alone down here; besides the giant rats that they could hear squeaking. The clumsy struggle with Dusker had tipped off the enemy they were coming.

"Which one of you men is Byron Costello?" Cullen openly addressed the gathering of smugglers, brandishing various weapons in the two new comers direction.

"That would be I, Ser Cullen." Byron was sitting in a chair, drinking something from a bottle that was not apple juice. "You should not have come here. Either of you."

"Aeron!" Juliannah was sitting in the corner, arms wrapped around her thick legs and sobbing in a pathetic manner.

"Why do you keep kidnapping little girls, Byron?" Aeron rolled her eyes in mystified annoyance. Cullen looked about ready to start gutting men for the honour of the maiden behind them. He really was a bloody knight in shining armour. "Have you really nothing better to do? What's next on your crime agenda? Sweetrolls from babies?"  
>"She is not a 'little girl'." Byron sniffed the air, smelling his own ego or out of disdain; one of the two. "Are you, mummies big round dumpling?"<p>

"OHHHH!" Juliannah started bawling loudly at the fresh round of insults, Byron cackling with enjoyment at the tormented cries.

"I have heard quite enough from you, serah." The Knight-Captain raised his sword and shield to the ready. "Return the young lady to her keeper immediately or I shall be compelled to remove her from your custody by force."  
>"Do we really have to do this, Ser Cullen?" Byron tossed his whiskey bottle to the man next to him. "I could make it worth your while."<p>

"I care not for riches, serah."

"Don't be such a noble idiot." Byron tsked then sucked air between his teeth as he thought more on the subject of bribes. "How about a sizeable donation to the Chantry?"

"I do not accept bribes, by whatever means they present themselves." The Knight-Captain's frown had finally reached critical and was about ready to breach if this didn't end soon.  
>"Fine then. Have it your way. Bloody knights." Byron waved his arms around having a mild tantrum. "What about you then, Aeron? I'm sure there is something you would like? I could make your servitude go a-"<p>

"Oh fuck off Byron." Aeron groaned. "Can't you just throw yourself onto your blade and be quiet? I really get tired of this pompous git routine you have. We both know your mother was a whore and you grew up in the slums."

"I-tsk… who told you that? They are lying!" Byron rounded on the red-eyed woman, leaving the safety of his men behind him. "Shit…" He stuttered out as she shanked him in the gut with the knife she normally kept on her thigh for emergencies. "K-kill… them." He toppled to his knees before being kicked onto his back by his attacker.

There was a sudden burst of movement in the cramped ship hold, as Byron's men ran forward to attack the ship tilted rather suddenly from the shift in weight causing a number of untied good to tumble forward. Cullen lifted his shield tight against this body to deflect several crates and a bad guy from crushing him whilst Aeron and the others threw themselves out of the path of danger. Juliannah was screaming somewhere but the sound was echoing so neither Knight nor bodyguard could find an accurate direction.

As the ship settled back, into a steady too and fro, men popped up out of the debris like jack-in-the-boxes though at least two were now missing; possibly crushed. Only Cullen had managed to remain standing, his armour and shield having protected him from the barrage of objects.

"Don't do that again you stupid bastards!" Aeron bellowed, parrying a sword that came flying for her neck.

"Shut up and die!" A smuggler called out at the room in general.

The sound of screaming and fighting was deafening in the hold. The clank of blade against blade, huffing of exertion, as Aeron and Cullen fell back into an easy routine with their bodies pressed behind one another. The big wall of steel worked really well for Aeron, who found herself pushing back against the Knight's back to increase the power to her kicks between knocking back daggers and blades. It tended to put Cullen off though, as he kept being bumped forward and having to bring his shield up more often to beat an assailant down with it.

With the majority of men unconscious or fighting their way through the debris to them, Aeron finally broke away from the safety of their two-man circle, springing into action with the curving of her blade. A struggling smuggler, with his foot caught in a net, lifted his sword to defend from the attack and push her back but instead found a knee lodged heavily in his groin sending him down with a loud groan. There was a wail behind her; she turned throwing her body into a defensive position but it was already over as her enemy gurgled up clots of blood, a sword impaling his chest through to the other side. She nodded her thanks to the Templar as he pulled his weapon free from the man's insides and turned to defend against a new onslaught of attacks from the remaining men. Aeron on the other-hand had disappeared off to find the source of screaming from her charge. Where had that girl gotten too now?


	11. Swimming with the fishes

**Chapter 11: Swimming with the fishes**

Aeron stumbled forward over a cluster of crates as the ship pitched to the side again; Cullen having managed to rock the boat as he tossed two men behind his back using his shield as a pivoting point. She hissed and groaned painfully as a particularly sharp corner scratched against her leg opening up the scabbing from a previous injury. A line of blood weaved its way gently down the length of her calf and trickled a greeting to the floor as she stood only mildly hobbled and began her expedition over the debris of goods.

"Juliannah?" She called out to the hold in general, hoping for a direction to follow.

"I'm here!" The girl cried back, the sounds of her runny nosed sobs breaking through the clatter of swordplay elsewhere. "I'm stuck!"

"I see you. Give me a second and I'll come and get you." Aeron reassured as she surfed a barrel frighteningly forward, managing to hop off at the last minute onto a pile of mixed knitwear. "Almost there!"

"Hurry! I can't feel my feet." Juliannah wailed, her voice reaching new levels of high-pitched patheticness. "I just want to go home!"

"I got you." Aeron soothed, leaning over the stack of crates her charge had gotten lodged amongst to squeeze a desperately reaching hand with some sympathy. The poor thing was bawling her eyes out and all kinds of tangled. Her big puffy puppy eyes were enough to warm the warriors heart for a moment as she hushed the girl with something equivalent of a motherly tenderness she'd heard somewhere before. "Oi! Templar! I could use you over here if you're not too busy!"

"Maker preserve me…" She heard him muttering between a series of grunts, clashes and screams until finally things quieted down into the ordinary groan and tick of wood warping between rocking; and the sounds of a Templar catching his breath in heavy gulps. "I am at your command, serah." He tittered towards the two women, careful not to trip and lose his balance with such a bulky weight covering his body. That skirt wasn't helping matters either.

"She's stuck, help me move this." Aeron patted the girl's hand one last time before letting go and taking the side of a heavy crate.

The Knight-Captain followed suit, taking the other end and heaving the large box up and to the side with a loud thump as it bounced across fellow debris. With a quick pause to catch their breath they began work on the next crate that was below the first revealing a head and upper torso of a dishevelled looking maiden. Now with better purchase the Templar leaned over the edge of the remaining crates and offered his arms to the grateful damsel and hoisted her up with a great heave of effort up onto the edge of her confines. As he held her in place, Juliannah's arms tight around his neck as if he were a safety line, Aeron cut away at the tangle of rope and fishing nets wrapped around her charges legs with her knife until finally she was free.

Juliannah was suddenly having a wonderful time, now that she was a free woman, and giggled profusely as her knight in shining armour lifted her bridal style and carried her off too safety. The two of them had seemingly forgotten all about Aeron trailing behind them, gritting out a series of relief filled sighs, as they made there way back to the open sea air.

"Oh Ser Cullen." Juliannah was swooning happily, which the Templar seemed to take more as a sign that she was unwell and about to feint. "What would I have done if you had not come to rescue me? Those men… those men… oh my they would have killed me or something dreadful!"

"I hope you will exercise better caution in future, Lady Juliannah." The Knight-Captain was frowning ever so slightly as he carefully made his way down the walkway back to solid ground. "You should not have left your friends side. Kirkwall is a dangerous place. Especially for young ladies."

"Oh I know." Juliannah sighed regretfully as she realised her dashing rescue was coming to an end. "But they said that mother wanted to see me and that I was going to get a mabari."

"Juliannah…" Aeron groaned. "You know your mother hates dogs."

"Yes but… Oh I just thought…" She sniffed miserably, ducking her head between Cullen's neck and shoulder and making a sad sort of noise.

"Please, my lady," The Templar hushed setting his damsel gently down to her feet, "do not worry. The danger has passed and you are safe." He rubbed her arms tenderly as she continued to cling to him, her body shaking with concealed tears. "Perhaps you two should come to my office and I will have some tea sent up."

"Hmmm." Aeron hummed a resigned, defeated, agreement. There was no way Juliannah was going to move for anything less than a choccy biscuit or a puppy.

"This way." The Knight-Captain coaxed the weeping girl onward, safe beneath his well-armoured arm as the bodyguard clung to their wake.

As the two women sat inside the cold, bare office of the Knight-Captain, waiting for their tea, Aeron could not help but frown at the giddy girl wiping tears delicately from her eyes. That headache was back almost as soon as the Templar had left them alone to seek out a pot of warmth from the Gallows kitchens.

"He's so very nice isn't he?" Juliannah twiddled her thumbs on her lap, head bobbing around the room as she looked at whatever she could find. "It was so nice of him to save me. Oh and you as well. I know I was being stupid but I really thought mother had asked them to come and get me. I… I promise I won't do that again. Go wandering off without you I mean. I uh… yes so don't worry I've learnt my lesson. Really. You forgive me?"

"Hmm." Aeron folded her arms, eyes half-lidded as she drowned out her headache with thinking of nothing. She was only half aware Juliannah was even talking but that was nothing new.

"Oh I'm so glad. I thought you would be mad at me forever." Juliannah sighed melodramatically and grinned like a Cheshire cat biting her lip in conspirative thinking. "Do you think… is Ser Cullen…"

"My apologies for the wait." The man of the moment strolled in through the door carrying a tray of cups and such. "The ladies in the kitchen were disgruntled with my appearance and… well," he paused to lay the tray on his desk and clear his throat, "how do you take your tea, Lady Juliannah?"

"Oh how kind of you Ser Knight. Um… sweet." She watched him drop a cube of sugar into a steaming cup then inclined her head for another cube and shook it at the gesture of milk until the cup finally reached her.

"Aeron?"

"Hmmm?" Aeron looked up, her features groggy as she removed the hand shielding her eyes and sat up a little straighter. "Dark." She reached for the cup before he had the chance to offer it to her by hand.

"You can tell a lot about a person by how they take their tea." Cullen mused as he sat behind his desk pouring himself a balanced cup of one part sugar and milk to his tea.

"Oh really?" Juliannah tittered closer to her Knight, balancing on the edge of her seat with a sip of her warming beverage. "What does my choice mean, Ser Cullen?"

"You are every bit of sweetness, my lady." He chuckled in response receiving a delighted grin from the girl in question.

"I… hmmm." Juliannah blushed, clutching her cup in both hands and hiding her heated cheeks behind another sip. "What about Aeron?"

"Aeron…" he trailed off into a ponder, his features etched like stone as he watched the woman staring at the wall with disinterest; a hand draped over her forehead whilst the other gripped the untouched tea to a balance on her knee. "I would say she were a woman of plain needs if she had not asked for it dark."

"Are you... saying that Aeron is uh sinister?" Juliannah's face pulled into an 'oh' shape as she eyed the woman beside her that was apparently not listening to the conversation.

"Of course not." He dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand and a cheerful smile for the young lady as he leaned back into his chair; though his eyes told a different story. "Tell me, Aeron, have you ever been in the Circle tower before?"

There was a silence that spanned on uncomfortably until Juliannah couldn't take it anymore and elbowed the warrior to her left. Aeron jerked violently awake, sucking in a breath of oxygen as she looked around the office not knowing where she was for a moment. The tea had miraculously managed to survive, though that was probably due to a lot of warrior based muscle memory guiding the delicate teacup to safety.

"Are we going now?" Aeron stifled a yawn as Juliannah giggled.

"It would appear your friend is exhausted from morning activities, Lady Juliannah." Cullen smiled at the amusement, placing his half-full cup on his desk and stood; his eyes never leaving the red-eyed woman as she got to her feet sliding her own cup to meet his on hard wood. "And you have regained your complexion. Perhaps I could walk you both home?"

"Oh that would be ever so kind of you but…" Juliannah slumped with a delicate sigh.

"But?"

"We… we have somewhere… a uh… previous appointment." She finished with a sorrow filled nod. "But maybe could um… come back another time to thank you properly for rescuing me, Ser Knight."

"I will look forward to your next visit then, ladies." The Knight-Captain, being a gracious host guided his guests out of the Templar hall and back to the main courtyard before returning to his duties.

"Oh Aeron!" Juliannah practically fainted with quickly expanding puppy love for the Knight. "He's so big and shiny and nice and strong and and and… Oh my!"

"Where are we headed, messere?" Aeron was far more interested with this 'previous appointment' than the loony girls increasing catalogue of love interests. Creators have mercy on whomever marries the airhead.

"Anders clinic of course." Juliannah giggled skipping off towards a stall to replenish the cache of herbs she'd lost during the earlier disagreement with Byron.

Speaking of Byron. _I wonder if he made it out alive_, Aeron mused as she kept a much closer eye on the stupid dumpling that follows strangers that offer her sweeties. She was not going to get away again. Aeron was going to watch her like a Hawk- _I hate that guy_, she internally fumed trailing her charge back to the pedestrian boats and out of the Gallows; leaving a headache and an ever vigil Templar behind.

* * *

><p>He could sense it again. That horrible feeling in the air as if something wicked had entered his temple. It had to be them or something about them but he was sure Juliannah was wholly innocent in this matter. The friend then, the one with the red-eyes. Justice suddenly stirred within him, the spirit flinching in pain as if he were burned when Anders eyes locked with Aeron's.<p>

"Anders? Are you listening to me, Anders?" Juliannah tilted her head, trying to catch his attention.

"What? Yes, yes I was listening but I…" He grasped for anything to explain his preoccupation. "I noticed your friends leg there. Are you injured?"

"Injured? Oh my." Juliannah gasped, noticing for the first time the trail of dried blood down Aeron's leg. "Oh Aeron why didn't you say anything? If I had known I… Oh how could you not say anything?"

"It's fine." Aeron rolled her eyes dismissively.

"No you should get that looked at. Oh Anders please take care of her I couldn't bare it if anything happened to Aeron. Oh how could I be so silly?"

"Come over here and let me take a look at that." Anders patted his examination table towards the back of the clinic. Justice was more than a little eager to do some examining of his own.

"Really it is fine." Aeron sighed, exasperated by the pair getting hysterical over a grazed leg.

"It's better to be safe than sorry." Anders gave a winning smile as Juliannah nodded furiously in agreement. "Come on just hop up here and let me take a quick look."

"Ugh. Fine." She relented, following the healer over to the wooden table and lifting her rear up to seat upon it with a gigantic sigh of aggravation.

Anders squatted slightly, lifting her leg by the snug spot between ankle and calf, testing the damaged area carefully with his free hand as Aeron relaxed into his inspection. She looked away; staring vividly at the cobwebbed ceiling to distract from the sense of fragility this whole situation gave her. Not to mention the anxiety the healer gave off in great distressing waves. There was a tingling sensation as magic swept over the wound, knitting together parted flesh, and then the feeling changed. It was colder, nauseating like something violating her insides. She'd been healed before in the past by mages and knew how it tended too feel but this was not an ordinary healing spell.

"What are you doing?" She gripped the table with both hands, her head foaming with sickness as she struggled futilely to break free from his grasp. "Stop it. I said stop!"

She lifted her free foot, as a final desperate act of preservation, and kicked him square in the chest. Anders tumbled backwards onto the floor, landing awkwardly on his back as Juliannah screamed in fright, not understanding the situation. There was a ring in the air as a sword was released from its confines followed by the thud of very angry feet finding the fragment-covered floor from a previous height.

"What are you?" The healer questioned, ignoring the blade poised at his throat as he watched rage filled red orbs.

"You lay a hand on me again and I'll gut you like a fish." She glared down at him as he returned the same look.

He wasn't frightened of any little girls with big mouths and she was quaking like a frightened mouse beneath that angry façade. He could taste it off her like the salty bitterness of depravity that oozed out of every orifice. For a moment his eyes began to glow a predatory blue but quickly regained control of the inner spirit as she moved away still pointing her blade in his general direction. He couldn't, not in front of the innocent one. Another time. He could wait. Justice finds and squashes every sin in the end.

"Juliannah we are going."

"But I-"

"Juliannah we are going!" Aeron snapped, dragging the girl towards the door by her sleeve.

"I- yes I… F-farewell Anders." Juliannah tried to wave but thought better of it. What had she just witnessed? Did Anders just attack Aeron? But he was a healer? She didn't understand, couldn't understand. This was all too strange and wrong.

Not a word was said between the pair as they walked back to the mansion. Aeron in a foul mood and Juliannah seemingly distant. Lost in a blood soaked trail of right and wrong with no conclusion. As they returned, Lyn was getting ready to leave on some business when she noted the shaken look of her daughter and frowned.

"Jewel? Are you all right sweetheart?"

"Yes mother." Juliannah paused in the lobby at the sound of her mother's voice.

"Has something happened?" Lyn was eyeing Aeron now with suspicion. "You can tell me darling. I'm sure I can have it straightened out."

"No mummy I…" She sighed before turning her full attention on her mother. "I want to learn how to fight."

"What? But sweet pea why would you want to do that?"

"Because I… I want to know how to protect myself in case… in case anything were to happen."

"But darling that's what Aeron is for."

"No mummy!" Juliannah stamped her foot hard in frustration. "I want it. I want to be able to defend myself and everyone around me and I… I… I want it mummy!"

"All right, all right Jewel." Lyn smirked, liking this new assertive attitude on display. "Anything my baby wants, my baby gets. The exercise might do you some good as well." Lyn froze as Juliannah made a high-pitched wail. "Jewel no I didn't mean it like that. I just meant. Oh baby you know mummy loves you just the way you are. My beautiful little girl." She quickly pulled her big little girl into a tight embrace. "I'll make the arrangements for an instructor to come and-"

"No I want Aeron."

"But baby Aeron is not-"

"Mummy!" Juliannah whined, tears pouring from her pitiful puppy eyes now.

"All right baby, all right. Aeron!"

"Yes messere."

"Sort it."

"Yes messere." Aeron stared at a wall like a zombie. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. What a brat.

"Look at my little Jewel, all grown up." Lyn fussed over her big girls plump cherub cheeks and kissed her forehead with motherly pride. "You be good now. I need to head out on some business for a couple of days."

"Yes mother." Juliannah smiled. "Have fun."

"Take care darling." Lyn hugged her baby once more before finally leaving.

Juliannah breathed a heavy sigh, still not looking in Aeron's direction as she climbed the stairs to her room. Aeron followed close behind taking her guard duty seriously. As they entered the large bedroom Juliannah slumped tiredly into a chair and instantly began sowing what looked to be the beginnings of a pillowcase. Aeron didn't like the room much; it was filled with insanely patterned fabrics, every colour of thread conceivable and strange mannequins covered in ghastly hand-made clothing.

"You can go Aeron." Juliannah practically whispered. "I… I won't need you anymore today."

"Yes messere."

"And I… I'm sorry about… I…"

"Yes messere. I'll come back tomorrow to start your lessons."

"Uh, hmmm." Juliannah nodded keeping her eyes still focused on her project.


	12. Fishing without a hook

**Chapter 12: Fishing without the hook**

Aeron took a walk around Hightown after she left the mansion. It was only the beginning to the afternoon still and far to early to return home for dinner or to attempt drinks at the Hanged man on her lonesome. Besides, the incidents with Anders and Byron had her shaken up and feeling angsty.

As she strolled past the Chantry, lost in malicious thought, a woman's voice caught her attention. It was raised high in anxious pleading, aimed at a helmeted Templar, and she couldn't help but eaves drop the feminine desperation. The woman was frantic to find someone, a husband Aeron assumed as she slowed her pace to a crawl in order to listen further to the conversation. The Templar had no information to give the woman, seeming more distracted with getting away as quickly as possible; perhaps out of secrecy or nothing more than disgust at such a public attraction of tears and begging. Either way he was an arse.

As the clanking metal man clomped away towards Lowtown, the woman practically crumpled inward on herself before the steps of the Chantry. Nobles all around were trying desperately not to look, to pretend that nothing amiss was taking place in their perfect world. The sister by the notice board even continued her preach of the Chant without a sideways glance. With a heavy sigh, having completely rooted herself to one spot, Aeron spun on her heels and marched the too few steps towards the sobbing mess of womanly flesh.

"Are you all right?" She queried, a hand brushing the woman's shoulder in an untested manner.

"Please, can you help me?" The crying woman leaned into the nervously comforting touch, arcing her head to reveal pitiful bulging damp eyes of blue. "My brother."

Lucky for her she was half-blinded by those tears, and filled with such desperation to ask strangers for help, or the poor woman would have probably reeled backwards into an over glorified statue at the red-eyes blinking back at her. That's normally how things happened anyway. Taking a deep breath, Aeron hummed a low sound in her chest before her mind fluttered into a consensus. She hadn't really thought this would go down this way. Nobody asked her for help. Well, that wasn't exactly true. Nobody nice ever asked her for help.

"What happened to your brother?"

"Keran was always so devout, so idealistic." The woman slipped from her touch, beginning to pace in a tight circle in front of Aeron. "He was so proud when the Templars accepted him. I pleaded with him not to join the Order, but he wouldn't listen. You hear dark rumours about the Templars and Knight-Commander Meredith. And now my brother is gone."

"Hmm." Aeron frowned, her brow knitted in concentration as she watched her toes twiddle one at a time. This was not something she was used to. A kind deed sort of mission but maybe it was just the change of pace she needed to break her darker thoughts. "Just tell me what you know."

"Keran would write me every day." The woman went right back into her monolog. _She really must be desperate_, Aeron pondered. "Then suddenly, no more letters. I wrote him many times with no response. I tried to see him but Knight-Commander Meredith threw me out. They won't tell me anything!" She threw her arms up in a fit of hysteria.

"Well… what do you expect me to do about this?" Aeron shrugged after hearing the facts presented. "Couldn't the guard do something?"

"Well… I…" The woman looked deflated, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes yet again as Aeron grimaced at the scene and begrudgingly placed her stiff hand back on the woman's shoulder.

"I'll." Aeron swallowed back some unsettling bile. "I'll look into it."

"Thank you." The woman lit up into the first smile since they had met. Her sense of lonely despondency cracking into a shared burden with another. "Perchance in your journeys if you find yourself in the Gallows – ask the other recruits, Wilmod and Hugh, about my brother. They were Keran's closest friends in the Order. If anyone knows where he is, it's them. Maker bless you and watch after you in this endeavour."

"Hmm." Aeron nodded trying not to roll her eyes at all the Maker blessings. She was pretty sure if he existed he probably disapproved of her. "If I find any information, where will you be?"

"I suppose you can find me at my home. Ask for Macha. I live in Lowtown, just west of the Hanged man tavern."

"Creator's… not next to the Hawke family?"

"Hawke- You mean the Amell and Hawkes." Macha confirmed Aeron's worst fear. "Your eyes are… red."

"I'll be in contact if I find anything out." Aeron huffed as she stalked away, at a long striding pace, before anymore scrutinising could occur leaving the other woman in disarray and mutual relief.

How exactly was she going to find Templar recruits amongst the bunch of full Templars, or whatever they were called? They all looked the same in those weighty metal contraptions they called armour. And why did they wear skirts? She would probably have to ask around until she found the right ones. Maybe she could ask that Cullen about it, though she didn't much like the idea of getting to close to him again. All that weak at the knees sensation was unpleasant to say the least.

Coming down the steps into the Lowtown market Aeron was so caught up in deep thinking she hardly noticed the brown mass of fur bounding in front of her legs and tripped forward with a loud 'oof'. She managed to thankfully land on something soft, namely the lumbering mabari's back, which made the dog whine at the sudden weight before shaking her off.

"Fuck…" Aeron managed to land onto the balls of her feet, crouched low as she held her sore ribs.

"Bounce!" A familiar male voice scolded the whining mabari as he dipped his head in apology and tried to lick Aeron's face.

"Get off! Ack!" She groaned, pushing the doggy kisses away with her hands as the over excited pooch was mowing her down to the ground.

"Bounce! Stop that!" The annoyed male first tried to pull the dog back before giving up and reaching down to rescue the woman away from under the dog and into his strong arms. "Are you all right?"

"Carver… that dog is a menace!" Aeron clung desperately to the warriors side as the mabari, bobtail wagging affectionately, tried to jump up and reach her face with more loving licks.

"Talk to my brother about it." Carver covered as much of the smaller warrior as he could with his body and twirled her out of reach of the menace. Not that Bounce was ready to give up just yet as he moved for a new ploy of barking loudly, front body tilted downward and tail up in a gesture of play. "He likes you. You must remind him of Garrett."

"Fuck you Carver." Aeron shook out of his protective hold at the insult only to get assaulted by the happy mabari jumping up again, paws braced on her shoulders and licking furiously at whichever cheek he could reach during her head shaking of disgust. "Get off. Get off! GET OFF!"

"Whine." Bounce whined as he finally gave up, sensing the opposite reaction of what he desired and sat obediently at the woman's feet.

"How did you do that?" Carver leaned back in astonishment at the well-behaved mabari. "He only listens to Garrett. Sometimes mother." He continued to watch the compliant dog watching Aeron awaiting approval. As only silence reached his ear, Carver looked up to find her arms folded with a stern scowl on her face. "Look I- Did not mean you are like Garrett. Garrett is a giant git. I just meant Bounce- You know what I was trying to say. Aeron, come on."

"I need your help." She finally relented, though her arms and scowl stayed focused.

"You need my help?" Carver repeated the words as something unfamiliar he did not ordinarily hear. Nobody needed him; he just got in the way and annoyed all of Garrett's friends. "What- what do you need my help with?" He was suspicious now, his tone and body language altering to present this feeling more openly than his words could ever demonstrate. "I am not doing anything illegal."

"So now I'm a git like your brother and a criminal." Aeron's lids slid tighter together to really accent that loathing glare now. "That's what you think of me?"

"No! Maker no!" Carver lifted his hands, his suspicion giving way to shock and apologetic gesticulation. "I-" He paused to take a deep breath and think about his next words before he said something else noteworthy and stupid. "You are nothing like my brother. I dislike my brother but I do not dislike you." He looked around the market uncomfortable, heat rising to the outer layers of his skin.

"Ugh." She hissed through her teeth, rolling her eyes and waving off the atmosphere of awkwardness. "Just come and help me talk to some Templar recruits."

"Templars? What do you want with the bloody Templars?" Carver's attention fully remerged, that suspicion of his back with vengeance. She didn't expect him to betray his brother did she?

"Just come with me and I'll explain on the way." She sighed.

"Bark."

"You too Bounce." Aeron conceded to the panting, slobbering bounding pooch as he took off after his second favourite person apprehensively followed by Carver.

* * *

><p>"So we are looking for some missing Templar recruit?" Carver was piecing the puzzle together carefully, almost fearfully as if demons and rabid bunnies would bounce out of the edges. "I know Macha. A little. I mean, she has tea with mother some afternoons. I wonder why she didn't ask my brother for help in this."<p>

"Grief makes you do crazy things." Aeron shrugged, peering over the side of the pedestrian boat headed for the Gallows.

"I can see why you need my help now at least." He shifted in his seat, looking for comfort and finding the weight of a napping dog pressed firmly to his lap instead. "I have been to the Gallows for supplies and on the rare occasion with Garrett. I should be able to spot who you need fairly easily."

"That's what I was hoping."

"This is nice." Carver smiled, enjoying the sun bleaching his face with warmth and light.

"It's just a cramped boat ride."

"No. I meant this. Being needed." He stretched his legs, grazing his boot gently against her ankle as she sat across from him; not that she moved away from the contact. "As something more than an extra sword at least."

"Ha!" Aeron smirked, watching for make-belief fish in the exhausted Kirkwall waters. "I'm sure those skills will be needed too."

"You are probably right." He chuckled as the boat bumped its way neatly into the Gallows dock. "When is anything ever easy?"

"When we're dead." She replied stoically, following the gathering of citizens off the boat.

Walking under the open gated arc, that persistent headache immediately returned. Aeron brushed her palm into a salute above her eyes, blocking the sun out of reach and watched as Carver looked around at the unpleasant architecture of the mages home; finding his bearings. Bounce was all manner of panting curiosity himself, brushing protectively against the woman's leg and receiving a pat with her free arm in return. The dog's fur was rough, and caked in dried dirt and sticky seeds using him as a ride to fertile plains, but as her fingers reached deeper she could feel that baby soft under-pelt that tickled between her fingers reassuringly. It was strange how an animal could bring such a calming sensation to the forefront of ones mind through simple touch.

"Over there, by the merchant docks entrance. Those look like recruits." Carver pointed out a huddled group of gossiping Templars, his back straight in self-assurance as he swaggered towards them. Aeron couldn't help the snort of mirth that slipped her control at the sight of confident Carver taking charge. It was also a little bit… well, attractive. "Do you know a recruit named Keran? His sister is looking for him."

"We cannot speak to you, messere." A lady Templar folded her arms, voice low in annoyance at the distraction from her previous rumour milling.

"To the void with that!" A second recruit, much bolder in tone, stepped forward with a determined frown. "Keran and the others are missing."

"But our orders!" The third and final Templar hissed quietly, as if afraid Meredith was lurking behind him.

"The knights aren't doing anything to find them. Maybe it's time to ask for outside help."

"We weren't even certain Keran was missing." Aeron came forward; thanking the Creators her headache was soothing. "Who else is gone?"

"The first ones disappeared weeks ago. There's been at least half a dozen. Wilmod and Keran were the most recent."

"Why must you keep silent about Keran?" Carver questioned.

"You obviously aren't a Templar, messere." The third cowardly recruit almost started saluting at himself, so caught up in being pompous and better than the peasant folk.

"No shit."

"And your point is?" Carver covered over Aeron's swearing, arms crossed defensively, waiting for a slur of some kind.

"A knight-lieutenant gives you an order and you obey. Without question." Bold Templar number two cut off pompous coward before he had a chance to say something stupid. "They told us not to breathe a word about Keran and the others."

"They must have their reasons." Lady Templar was back in the conversation.

"And that'll be a great comfort if you go missing next."

"I hear Knight-Commander Meredith has some new initiation you have to go through." Templar coward was practically humming with trepidation over his latest shaky super secret. "If you're not strong enough or fervent enough in belief, you don't make it out alive."

"It sounds brutal… and effective." Carver was too busy admiring the concept to notice Aeron's raised eyebrow questioning his gullibility.

"And you honestly believe that?" Lady Templar chuckled, thank the Creators someone had sense around here.

"Recruits keep going missing." Brave Templar was apparently in the boys club of idle gossip believers too.

"Wilmod came back."

"What?"

"He did. I saw him this morning."

"If Wilmod came back I bet he knows more about the other missing recruits." Aeron looked to Carver.

"I bet he would." Brave Templar agreed.

"Wilmod told me he was going outside Kirkwall." Lady Templar chipped in, apparently giving up on the complete secrecy order like the others. Reprimands for all. ""Clear his head," he said."

"Why didn't you tell us this?"

"Knight-Captain Cullen ordered it. Right before he chased after Wilmod. That wasn't too long ago. If you hurry, you may catch them on the road."

"Right." Carver nodded his thanks to the recruits as they instantly returned back to their rumour milling with extra bravado. "I suppose now we travel out towards the coast."

"This is going to be a wild goose chase." Aeron sighed, following Carver and pooch back towards the pedestrian boats to wait for the next one out of the Gallows. "We don't even know where abouts they are around. It's a big world outside these walls, Carver."

"Good thing we have a mabari on our side. Isn't that right boy." He scratched at the mabari's stunted ears. "You can sniff out a couple of Templars for us, couldn't you?"

"Bark!" Bounce wagged his little tail furiously, salivating at the attention he was receiving. He hadn't had so much fun in a long time.

As the trio finally reached the inner city once again, Carver cheerfully taking lead, Aeron paused at a sudden idea. It was early evening now, dockworkers all around them packing up for the day and ready to return home or for drinks at the various taverns. Just the right time to pick up an archer.

"Hang on."

"What is it?" Carver scowled as Aeron jogged off up some steps and around the corner out of sight.

The man and dog shared an inquisitive glance before lopping off after their teammate. As they rounded the corner, almost tripping over several elves and stacked crates, the sound of bickering caught their attention swiftly. Aeron had cornered a dark haired elf between two stacks of goods and was holding a stand off. Arms folded, feet tapping on both sides.

"No." Kharis whined. "I have a wife now. A very bossy wife. She won't even let me out to play cards anymore."

"That's a good thing." Aeron leaned in, placing her hands on either side of her kin's head as he fumbled against the wall; caught up in the intimidation. "But you know what's worse than a bossy wife?"

"A bossy mother?"

"No."

"A bossy grandmother?"

"Well…" Aeron had to admit to that one. Grandma was definitely much more scarier than she could ever be. An inspiration really. "You owe me."

"But, cousin." Kharis whined. "It's pie tonight."

"What, really?" Her eyes lit up in childish glee, backing away from him to register the truth in his eyes.

"What is going on?" Carver frowned at the newest male on the scene. Bloody elf men were too attractive to let the women folk around. "Who is he?" Obviously not recognising the sleepy elf from so many nights ago.

"My cousin." Aeron waved him off, and then bit her lip in giddy pleasure. "Can I come over for dinner?"

"Well… you know how mother is, and Nessa… they have some strange female bonding thing going on. She doesn't like you much either."

"What?" Aeron was astonished, then enraged and finally resigned. "Ugh. I've been nothing but nice to your woman." She crossed her arms in annoyed wretchedness.

"I know, I know. In your own way…" Kharis cleared his throat, looking at the human male and mabari combo curiously. "I remember you. That night in the Alienage with the slavers."

"Yes." Carver tilted his head, still not quite believing the old 'he's my brother' excuse. Or in this case 'cousin'.

"I think I may come after all." Kharis had a strange look in his eyes Aeron could not quite identify. It was a new, apprehensive, calculating sort of stare as if he saw danger and treachery in the human man's stance. "I'll meet you at the guard post at the edge of town. Just need to pick up my gear from home."

"Finally!" Aeron crowed in victory, allowing her cousin to skip out of her influence and grinned back at Carver and mabari. "Let's go."

"Bark!" Bounce instantly streamlined with the half-elf-elf.

"Right." Carver was in a mood, though Aeron apparently didn't notice or didn't care.


	13. Ocean bounty

**Chapter 13 Ocean bounty**

All the fresh air excited Aeron and Bounce, the dog darting back and forth between flowers, muck, rocks, people's boots and strange looking moss, sniffing everything with sincere enthusiasm. Kharis on the other hand was busy grimacing at nature and swatting away flies, bees and fluttering butterflies. He hated the countryside. It was nothing but mud puddles, cold wind and funny tasting water.

"Are we there yet?" Kharis moaned for the umpteenth time, trying desperately to dodge what he suspected to be dog poop.

"Is your 'cousin' always this bloody annoying?" Carver groaned, lengthening his strides to catch up with the merrier squad mates.

"What do you mean my 'cousin'?" Aeron frowned at the intonation the human warrior had with that word. "He really is my cousin." She pointed out the half-sobbing elf's dark wavy hair before pointing back at her own. "Can't you see the resemblance?"

"I am a city elf! I am not made for this!" Kharis hopped desperately over a puddle as they began to climb a slope up towards some mountainous looking caves. "Can't we go home yet? I'm sure if these Templars are out here they don't want any knife ears help. Come on, let's just go home and eat pie."

"I'm not invited to your house remember."

"Aeron, I'm the man of the house I'm sure if I put my foot down the women folk would-"

"Kill you?" Aeron finished for him.

"Shit."

"Oh Kharis, filthy language from you? What would grandma say?"

"No, literally. I stepped in some of that mangy mabari's shit." Kharis really was crying now, pausing to wipe his bare feet against some pebbles.

"Whine?" Bounce doubled back far enough to reach the unhappy elf and immediately started licking his feet clean. Much to everyone else's disgust, except Kharis who was now giggling at how ticklish his feet truly were.

"Maker that's disgusting Bounce." Carver looked away before he started retching up his lunch. "Why don't you elves just wear shoes?"

"Have you seen how expensive shoes are?" Aeron rolled her eyes.

"And we trip over our long toes in shoes." Kharis admired his squeaky clean feet and patted the panting mabari thankfully. "Do you hear that?"

"Growl." Agreed Bounce as he and the elf skulked forward up towards a clearing.

"What is it?" Carver grumbled, following behind the investigating pair. "I don't hear anything."

"Raised voices. Sounds like… heavy armour shifting." Kharis concentrated, his larger ears not just for show. "I would say we have found our Templars."

"Let's go then." Aeron tapped Carver on the shoulder, signalling him to crouch low and sneak forward up towards a slight hill where they could get a better look at the situation.

He nodded fiercely, following suit as the group made there way up to the vantage point and lay flat on their stomachs to get a better look over the precipice. Heads bobbed out, between blades of over grown and coarse grass, the quartet watched as two Templar argued. A smaller, dark haired recruit squirming fearfully under his superiors seething. Aeron instantly recognised the angry, bellowing tin-can as Knight-Captain Cullen. He'd used that scary tone on her only that morning. Man really was a force to be reckoned with.

"Andraste as my witness, Wilmod." Cullen lifted the terrified recruit up onto his tippy-toes. "I will have the truth from you, now!"

"Mercy, ser. Mercy!" Wilmod pleaded, head tilted back as far as he could reach.

"Were it that easy." The Knight-Captain pulled him closer still, their armour bashing together in a moment of dull ringing steel.

"Don't hit me." The recruit breathed, his voice nothing more than an air filled whimper with all the fight frightened out of him.

Not that the Knight-Captain was having any pity for such a show of weakness. Without further hesitation he lifted his knee planting it squarely into the most sensitive place available on the recruits body, namely his crotch between the flimsy Templar skirts. Wilmod instantly crumbled to the ground, allowed to drop harshly as Cullen pulled loose his sword and held it's point threateningly at the man's throat.

"I will know where you're going. And I will know now." The Knight-Captain growled out between clenched teeth. His tone serious and affirming of agonizing action, no space was left to second guess his meaning.

"Don't you lay another hand on that boy!" Aeron hopped over the baby hill, landing with somewhat livid grace on the ground below and stormed towards the Templar cohorts before anyone could stop her.

"This is Templar business, stranger." Cullen rounded on the woman, his sword held firmly in place from years of training despite his lack of concentration. "Aeron?" The Knight-Captain's brow squeezed in confused recognition.

"Does everyone know you?" Carver moaned, looking his female counterpart over with a scrutinising glare, having come down after her with the excitable mabari, but minus Kharis hiding in his spot with bow and arrows drawn.

"You have struck me the last time, you pathetic human." Wilmod cackled rather evilly, distracting all around to stare at him while he sort of exploded with a bright oppressive light.

Shades immediately began erupting from the ground, assorted abominations joining the ranks of demons like seeds bursting into life during spring. There was a low groaning sound that seemed to suck the life out of the air and smoulder the adventurers into cold fear. By the Creators it was so cold and that Wilmod fellow really had seen better days. He now looked like a mutilated human-demon creature with such dark pitiless eyes. He had to die.

"Maker preserve us." Cullen's voice, barely a whisper as he visibly shook with terror, was of little comfort to anyone in the face of such dire horrors.

Nobody was ready to give up their lives just yet though. Why hadn't they brought a mage along? Because it would have had to of been Hawke, and he was a giant git.

Cullen was the first to slip into a well-practiced stance. He'd done this before and trained a ridiculous amount until his muscle memory reacted without needing direction from the brain. His shield was out, sword gripped tight as he lunged for a disorientated newborn abomination. Kharis had been firing arrows at the enemy since Wilmod had gone light bulb on them, not that the wooden bolts did enough damage to more than irritate, distract and maim a little. It was still a welcome distraction for the group of warriors and snarling mabari lunging at anything that presented within reach of his sharp teeth.

Carver, sucking in his adamant fear of demons, began swinging his great sword around at Shades and monsters with random abandon. He was in frenzy again, a violent non-thinking frenzy and Aeron only had sparse seconds to fly out of his way or get caught up in the slashing. _Creators that man is a worse menace than the mabari_, she fumed though at least the concern of the warrior diverted her from the fear she should feel for the demons.

"Carver!" She screamed, ducking the arc of the man's blade and managing to catch it on its swing back with her own sword, holding him in place. "Own it!" She growled locking eyes with his long enough to settle him into a building internal rally.

As a Shade groaned towards him, slinking across the ground like a black soulless snake, Carver was ready for it this time. His features determined, his stance strong and confident as he banked forward arms lifted high as his long blade swung upwards then down carried by momentum and mutual strength to cleave his foe in half. The kill was smooth, effortless and intoxicating as he breathed in the scent of sweat and power radiating from his body. Crouched on the balls of his feet as he regained his breath his eyes flicked up to spot a new enemy, bigger and badder than the last. An abomination eyed him, hissing low in menacing threat and taunting him to try his luck. Carver grinned, cock-sure with adrenaline pulsing through his veins and a sudden urge to extinguish something ugly. There was a moment where his mind cleared, no sound, no scent, no outside world. It was just the abomination and he staring one another down, daring the other to make the first move. The demon was salivating; great strings of drool trickling like a phlegm river down its mutilated chin. A hushed sound, the breeze cooling the warriors cheek as a crash of metal to his left broke through the stand-off bringing back reality with a great whoosh as he dived forward screaming out an angry war cry and sliced the demons limbs from its body one by one. The creature, in desperation clawed and scratched but only met air or the warriors steel blade until finally it shuddered to a still gurgling at the blade plunged within its chest.

Less than a minute of battle but it felt like a lifetime to Carver. His muscles flexed with power, aching from such agile and deft movements occurring in quick succession but this did not deter him. As his blade pulled free from the squalling demon corpse, not yet aware of its own demise, Carver was already onto his next victim before the beast could even touch the ground and shimmer from reality.

Aeron rolled out of reach of yet another Shades clawed clutches. That kind of hugging feel good crap she could do without. Kharis seemed to be spending all his attention on her now, the others fairing better apparently. Another arrow penetrated the Shade's shoulder, distracting the creature long enough for Aeron to get a heavy kick in and then parry its claws with her short sword. She would down this beast, even if she had to push it off a cliff. If only she wasn't standing so close to that Knight-Captain and his aura of weakness. She wasn't even out of breath but the closer she got to that Templar the slower her body was to react to commands. It was the same kind of feeling she got when having the flu for a couple of weeks and then finally being able to get out of bed but finding everything a bit stiff and out of practiced. She had to fight through the urge to sit down and yawn a great deal with as much anger as she could bolster. At least Carver was having fun, was that his fifth perfect kill. My how his muscular arms glistened with-

"Woah!" She ducked and rolled out of reach of a second Shade just in the nick of time though it had managed to graze her cheek. "Concentrate, Aeron"

Taking a deep breath she steadied her focus thinking of things that generally pissed her off; like Hawke. With the mage on her mind her movements suddenly peaked, her blade twirling effortlessly between dual Shades blows until she pushed them back, regaining her personal space. Snarling with fury she curved, twisting her body suddenly right and pulling her knife free from her thigh before thrusting the blade into the closest Shade's neckline followed swiftly by her sword to the gut. The demon made an agonised screaming sound before falling silent as an arrow pierced the back of its skull and disintegrated. She barely had the inch of a second to bend backwards, her spine arching into a sideways 'L' shape to escape the swiping motions of the second Shade. Her breath hitched in the back of her throat as the two arms motioned left and right above her vision, the creature quickly catching its action and altering to a vertical direction. She didn't have time to think, only react as she pivoted her stance to one foot, using the swing of the other to twist her arched body to the side with her sword arm following the momentum around to drive the thick metal straight through the demons throat.

The creature vaulted, shaking violent and desperately to reach the embedded blade as the woman righted herself with the pop, crack stretch of vertebrae realigning. She cackled at the demons discomfort, stalking after it as it slid and stumbled backwards.

"Where are you going?" She pounced, her fist slamming squarely into the monsters one-eyed gruesome face causing it to ricochet back against a rocky outcrop with a sickening thud, squelch.

The Shade fell silent, disappearing in the usual fashion of demons as she pried her sword loose from its throat. The poor thing hadn't stood a chance. Neither had the others as the two men and mabari were quickly dissipating the rest. Cullen with his steady uniform strikes and blows, sword and shield working in perfect unison to vanquish abomination after abomination. Carver with a wild, youthful fury carving his name with every blow and finally Bounce the menace of Kirkwall, taking chunks out of anything within reach and running what was left ragged. Kharis had taken to sitting on the edge of the hill, watching the scene like a spectator at a gladiator ring, his quiver empty of arrows and bow laid by his side. The archer really had made a wonderful difference in the beginning through to the middle but the end was a warrior's chore.

Finding the remaining opponents taken Aeron flicked her knife clean, replacing it back in its thigh hold, and flipped her sword round and round in her hand waiting to be needed; or not. Breathing in great soothing gulps through her nose she listened to her heartbeat growing louder in her ears. There was a bubbling undercurrent to that sound, warmth spreading through her feet, up along her calf and reaching steadily over her knees. Something was wrong.

"AERON!" Kharis called out for his cousin's attention, his eyes wild with alarm as he pointed with an all certainty at the space below her feet.

Aeron's gaze followed the point of direction without hesitation as she boggled at the building pool of lava below her feet. It only burned now she looked at it, thought about it, knew it should burn. She screamed like a frightened child, at the sight and her own initial reaction before jumping back out of reach of the Rage demon erupting from the spot. It hissed and rumbled into life, molten liquid flowing in perpetual cycles up and down to give its form shape. She stared and it stared back, an exchange without words that made her burn uncomfortably hot then chill with dread; ice cascading down her spine at the familiarity of two kindred spirits.

"Maker take you!" The Knight-Captain, taking the demons distraction as an opening for attack, pummelled the Rage demon with his shield before repeatedly stabbing the concussed monstrosity several times with his heavy-duty blade.

As he pulled away, his blade red and steaming, out of breath from the exertion and shaking as the adrenaline took its toll on his body. He was about ready to collapse, take a rest, but his training coaxed more restraint and endurance than he believed possible. Thank the Maker for helping him to stand and keep dignity.

"Are you all right?" Carver wrapped a comforting arm around Aeron's shoulders, bringing her attention back with a loud intake of oxygen.

"Yes I-" She stopped, folding neatly under his protective arm, her hands gripping his shirt like a lifeline; not that he seemed to mind the contact.

"I knew. I knew he was involved in something sinister." Cullen shook with rage, eyeing the spot where Wilmod's demon shaped body now lay. "But this. Is it even possible? Normally, we only worry that mages with fall victim to possession." He squatted down, daring himself to touch the ex-Templar's body but never quite finding the courage to meet that challenge. "I have heard of blood mages, or demons in solid form, who could summon others into unwilling hosts. But I had not thought one of our own would be susceptible."

"You shouldn't have been out here alone with him." Aeron spoke up, disentangling herself from Carver having regained enough strength; or perhaps not wanting to hear anymore on the subject of demons.

"I thank you all for your assistance." The Knight-Captain sighed, running a plated hand down his face to clear the demonic muck away. "I have been conducting an investigation of some of our recruits who have gone missing. Wilmod was the first to return. I had hoped the confront him quietly, out of sight."

"If you didn't know he was possessed, why draw your sword on a recruit?" Carver, brow furrowed, questioned as Kharis came dawdling onto the battle field collecting arrows still in working order.

"He had only been back a few days when he left again secretly. It set off some warning bells. I meant to scare him into a confession. He had to believe my threats were genuine."

"I've been at the end of that trick of yours." Aeron groaned, rubbing self-consciously at the light bruising around the back of her neck from the morning's shirt holstering. "You know the other recruits believe that Meredith is conducting some sort of deadly ritual?"

"What? That's preposterous." Cullen sighed, lifting his fingers to his temple in a symptom of shame at his younger subordinates. "Recruits can be worse than a weaving circle with their rumours. There is a vigil before Templars take their arms, but the gravest danger they face is falling asleep." He finished with a chuckle. Those wacky recruits.

"So what happened to Wilmod while he was gone?" Carver cut through the pleasantries, getting back on point. He did want to get home at some point, preferably before mother sent out a search party or got carted off by Gamlen's debt collectors.

"Obviously more than I have anticipated." Cullen went quiet, looking off to the side caught up in internal thinking on matters of Templar business before continuing with careful wording. "Wilmod has never been fully… convinced of the Order's rules. Mages cannot be our friends. They must always be watched. I thought Wilmod might be meeting with some old friends who'd escaped the Circle."

"Right." Carver didn't sound convinced, gaining him the knight-Captain's full attention.

"We're trying to find another recruit, a friend of Wilmod's." Aeron cut over the two males before a brewing debate could begin. "Do you know where Keran is?"

"He also disappeared." Cullen shook his head sadly no. "They were last seen together at the Blooming Rose. But I had no luck interrogating the, ah, young ladies there." He skipped over that last bit with calculated chivalry. The Chantry expected the deepest respect to women by Knights no matter their employment. "I doubt they know anything of magic or demons."

"You can be surprised." Kharis sniggered from somewhere behind the blushing Templar.

"I'll speak to them." Aeron huffed. "You never know how much you can learn from pillow talk."

"The Order would truly be in your debt if you helped us with this. No one at the brothel will speak with me for fear I would shut them down for serving our recruits."

"Just the recruits?" Kharis was enjoying himself immensely, flustering the Knight-Captain into deeper shades of crimson rouge.

"If you learn what manner of creature did this to Wilmod, please come tell me in the gallows. I will ensure you are rewarded." Cullen firmly stated then quickly sauntered away before Kharis could rile him further.

"'Rewarded'?" Kharis's eyes were huge with glee filled wonder. "Now I'm really glad I came."

"Shush you." Aeron feigned to swat her irksome cousin, Carver busy trying to tug the mabari away from a rabbit hole he was trying to dig into.

* * *

><p>"Do you need something, Honey?" Viveka, the beautifully buxom bosomed hostess at the Blooming Rose questioned the shorter, red-eyed woman as she entered the main lobby of the brothel.<p>

"I need some information…" Aeron tugged at her collar, she didn't like being in the brothel much. Some rather scarier people with a passion for whips and shackles tended to start trying to hire her anytime she popped in for a drink or… "About a couple of Templar recruits last seen here."

"You'll have to be more specific." Viveka smirked. "We do a lot of business with the Templars."

"There's a lot of missing Templars. If we don't act quickly… Creators please just take a bribe, Viveka. Those two bastards over there are looking at me like a pair of wolves." Aeron shrunk back a little, finding her two companions gone but at least the mabari still had her back. "I need a Wilmod and a Keran."

"Now, now. No need to get all dramatic on me." The hostess rolled her eyes, walking over to the bar and retrieving a large, heavy book from underneath. Aeron scooted along in her wake, rubbing her arms to warm the goose bumps forming from hungry eyes appreciation. "Let me look through the books. Wilmod… Keran… Here we go." She paused her finger flicking with triumph. "Wilmod came in here a lot. You sure he had time to be a Templar?"

"Or a demon…" Aeron muttered under her breath.

"The both of them last saw "Idunna the Exotic Wonder from the East."" Viveka deadpanned.

"That's quite the stage name." She snorted with mirth.

"It sounds better than the "Tramp From Darktown." You should hear what some of the others our called."

"I'm pretty sure someone actually introduced themselves to me under that name here." Aeron looked around the room, trying to locate her men. "Her real name's Vivian."

"I thought Vivian's name was "Vivian the Veracious Vamp""

"She really does work here?" Aeron's face lit up as if all her birthday presents had come in one go. "Oh this is… something. Thank you Viveka, a pleasure doing business with you." She slipped the hostess more coins than the information was worth; the titbit about Vivian was worth more than gold.

Skittering away through the evening rabble, Aeron soon began searching out her missing comrades whilst Bounce growled defensively at anyone getting to close to his charge. The mabari was really proving himself most useful today, she was even considering getting a hound of her own. _Not that grandma would let it anywhere near the house,_ she sighed finally spotting a familiar splodge of dark hair and a beige shirt.

"-even if there was something between us what gives you the right to tell me what to do?" Carver was fuming, fists clenched in pent up anger as he faced off a passively glaring elf.

"Shem have no-"

"Aeron!" Carver cut off the elf man, bringing his attention to the bemused half-elf-elf.

"What are you two doing out here?" She eyed up both little boys gawking as if they'd been caught with their pants down. Had they been talking about her? "I have the information. We're looking for some Idunna whore."

"I know her." Kharis grinned, remembering things his cousin could only grimace at the thought of imagining. "Follow me." The lithe elf man took off towards a set of stairs.

The less they talked about it, any of it, the better Aeron decided as she followed her cousin onwards trailing a gloomy Carver and a panting pooch relishing all the excitement still. She was surprised the mabari wasn't actually sticking his nose places it did not belong by now but perhaps Hawke had taken him to enough brothels to mind his manners. That was a horrid thought, why couldn't that ghastly creature stay out of her thoughts for more than a couple of hours. Oh right, he was sitting at the other end of the room feeling up a couple of twins. _Don't look this way, please creators don't let him look this way_, she began praying like crazy, hiding her face between her fingers as if they were magic and could make her invisible.

"What is my brother doing here?" Carver was astonished and annoyed at once.

"Don't look at him!" Aeron hissed quietly dragging the younger Hawke forcibly quicker up the stairs and into a dim lit room after her cousin.

There was an odd sort of moment, Carver pushed up against the wall as Aeron shoved the door shut behind them. Their breath harsh and ragged; adrenaline seeping into their veins at the excitement of out sneaking an annoying git. She could feel the heat from the warrior's body bypassing to her own, his eyes fixed on her hands still gripping the fabric on his chest before slowly tilting up to meet her gaze. She swallowed down the building saliva in her mouth juxtapose the dryness of her throat. Were they getting closer? She hadn't been able to feel the warmth of his breath a moment ago, feel the speeding rhythm of his heart pressed firmly to her outstretched palm. It would be so easy, right now to lean in and taste those lips.

"Ahem." Kharis cleared his throat much more loudly than he needed to, causing the tangled pair to scatter away from one another. "This is Idunna, cousin." He pointed out a previously unseen woman, smirking seductively on a bed that occupied most of the room.

"Right." Aeron bounced on her feet, shaking her head to shift a general warm moistness creeping into every orifice. "Right, the whore. Do you remember "entertaining" a Templar named Wilmod a few weeks ago? Or Keran?"

"Wilmod, Wilmod. That doesn't sound familiar." Idunna crooned in a singsong voice, Kharis glaring threateningly at Carver trying to calm his flushed cheeks somewhere behind the female conversation.

"I know he saw you frequently!" She growled dangerously at the whore.

"With a body like mine, men rarely have time to give me their names. They're too busy doing other things." Idunna chewed her lower lip, Aeron was sure the woman was insulting her. "Questions are boring. Why don't we have some real fun?" The whore stroked the bed in hypnotic circles of seductive welcoming.

"Aeron, go easy on this lovely… creature." Kharis was grinning like an idiot, Carver doing much the same.

"You should listen to your friend."

"I never listen to my cousin." Aeron folded her arms with a tilt of her head and a 'don't fuck with me' kind of expression. "He's an idiot. I'm here on business, though definitely not your kind. Keran. Wilmod. Tell me about them now!"

"Answer one of my questions first." Idunna's features never faltered just continued that fluttering of eyelashes and annoying self-obsessed smirk. "Who told you about little old me?"

Aeron rolled her eyes, opening her mouth to say something nasty and vile when a buzzing vibrated through her skull. Idunna tilted her head from one side to the other like a grinning parrot, her eyes fixed firmly on Aeron's. It felt as if she was being held there while the buzzing bubbled ever upwards trying to mount her willpower and ride it into submission. That's when a new sensation reached its tendrils upwards with seering clarity burning away the wisps' of magic until a harsh foreign sounding hiss ground between her teeth. She was seeing red, that burning hallucination, dream, experience whatever you wanted to call it was back but this time engulfing the whore in front of her eyes.

"How did you…? Oh, shit!" Idunna screamed in agony, throwing herself backwards onto the bed and riving around as if she were on fire. Though in Aeron's eyes she was.

"What in the Makers name…" Carver snapped from his enchantment at the sounds of screaming, brushing past Aeron to reach the struggling woman.

Aeron gasped at the sudden contact, feeling her brain jump-start and blink back into her cousin's concerned grip. She felt dazed, confused and fatigued, the other woman calming into nothing more than a whimper as Carver tried to check her over despite her pushing him away. She was cradling her face, welts and blisters risen along the exposed skin on her arms magically appeared as if she were physically burned. Creators knew what she was hiding on her face.

"Spare me, messere!" Idunna sobbed.

"What foul magic was that?" Carver asked the room in general. He couldn't tell what was going on other than the tingling sensation of a spell he'd been put under and the painful evidence of one the whore had received. Perhaps it was a rebound of magic from an inexperienced mage. Bethany and Garrett hurt themselves more than anything else when they were younger and coming into their powers.

"Blood and desire, in equal measure. An art I learned from… elsewhere."

"Blood magic then!" Carver spat, moving further away from the filthy whore. So it was her own doing.

"Yes, messere. Please don't kill me."

"You're going to answer all my questions." Carver was furious, his father had drilled he and his siblings enough about blood mages in their lifetime. "And if there's even a hint of magic…"

"Tarohne put me here." The whore couldn't sell out her own fast enough. "To send biddable Templar recruits to the sanctuary. Three Spear Alley, in the Undercity. I enchanted Wilmod and Keran weeks ago. But after they left these walls, I know not what came of them. Please let me live. It's not my fault. It was all Tarohne's idea."

"Leave her be." Aeron tugged at Carver's arm to pull him away from the sobbing whore, a slither of guilt running the length of her spine but he just yanked himself from her grip and stormed past.

"Come, cousin." Kharis followed after the fuming human.

"I'm sorry." Aeron croaked, her throat dangerously dry as Idunna peeled her hands from her face, revealing deep red and black scarring. "Oh shit." She ran from the room, down the stairs and did not stop until the night air blasted head on into her face. "Shit. Shit!" She leaned into a pillar, her stomach curling into tricky knots.

"Aeron?" A concerned voice followed its path with a reassuring hand pressed to her lower back. "Are you all right?"

"Her face." She blurted out, looking up at amber eyes not comprehending her statement.

"Who's face?" Garrett asked, his mabari friend snaking up to brush against both their thighs at once. "Bounce, who let you out?"

"I did, brother." Carver watched them, hawk-eyed and dangerous.

"Well if it isn't Carver." Hawke shifted gears, pulling his sibling into a headlock and scuffing up his hair. "My favourite brother!"

"Get off, Garrett!" Carver shook loose, re-styling his hair with muted contempt. "You're drunk."

"He's not that drunk. Yet anyway." Isabela giggled, coming closer to stroke Aeron's cheek. "Oh you look dreadful sweet thing. What did you do to her, Junior? Promise her a trip to the Maker and only deliver Amaranthine?"

The general air of humour and chuckling grew suddenly quiet as Aeron cupped her hands over her face and hic-upped a series of muffled cries. Kharis dashed forward but was beaten to the goal by a longer legged Carver pulling the distraught woman into the safety of his arms. She gripped him, her knuckles white from the strength she dug into his shirt, tears dampening the cloth to his skin.

"Maybe you should tell us what's going on here, Carver?" Garrett frowned his concern looking over at Isabela who shrugged her caring level at the low range.

"It's nothing brother. We can handle it." Carver gritted out torn between snarling at his nosy brother and holding the woman in his arms tighter. "There was just a blood mage-"

"Just a blood mage?"

"Oh now you have to tell us all the sordid details." Isabela was all ears now.

"We were looking for some missing Templar recruits, fought some demons, then questioned a whore that turned out to be a blood mage." Kharis threw his arms in the air just wanting the night to end so he could get some pie and spousal privileges.

"This sounds promising." Isabela purred, rubbing up against an entertained Hawke. "Why don't you fill us in on the details and Carver can take his damsel in distress home?"

"I told you we could handle it." Carver spat angrily then halted at the iron grip drawing his attention to a hushed voice.

"I just want to go home." Aeron shuddered against his chest.

"I-" He relented, rubbing her back up and down in slow circles. "I'll see you at home, brother." Carver couldn't even bare to make eye contact with his giant git of a sibling. Instead focusing his full attention on guiding his charge off towards Lowtown and the Alienage.

"Remember what I said, human!" Kharis called after the retreating pair, receiving no indication he was heard.

"Use the Hawke charm!" Isabela joined the general crowing.

Walking down the steps from Hightown to Lowtown went by in an eerie silence. She clung into his side, arm wrapped around his lower back as he held her close with his own draped around her shoulder. She wasn't crying anymore, sniffling, pensive with an aura of exhausted wretchedness. He hadn't expected her to break down like she had, she seemed so… strong, hard-headed, pissed off; one of those three. Maybe she was tired or the blood magic- that was it, it was the blood magic's fault. It could have been her first experience. He cried too when he was first hit with magic but he was also about four or five at the time.

Inhaling her scent he exhaled it again with a sigh allowing his lips to brush the top of her head. She ducked tighter into his safety, nuzzling her forehead against his shoulder despite the fact he was still sweaty from their fight on the coast. Fingers danced across flesh on either side, both seeking the minute comfort each could bring. The cool night air bringing with it the heavy scene of salt and ocean waves to purge their lungs. She looked up eyes puffy and red, well redder than usual, but lacking the moisture of tears. There was vulnerability there, the kind he could not ignore as his gaze locked with hers. A small shift, feet slowing to accommodate the upper body movement as their lips slipped one over the other in a chaste kiss before parting with eyes roaming elsewhere. She could taste a hint of his flavour on her sensitive skin as tongue darted out in eager search and rescue of chapped lips.

She was caught in that moment of inhalation of his warmth and categorising his various bittersweet tangs when he came to a stop, halting her in the process. She hadn't noticed where they were for some time but now she knew all too disappointedly well. Couldn't the walk have been a little longer, the moon a little brighter, and their kiss a little deeper before this point?

Unwillingly, she untangled herself from his arm, reluctant to leave his side as she shifted unsure towards her front door. He didn't move, only waited for her to bid him leave or…

"Do you want to come in?" Those words slipped from her treacherous tongue before her brain had, had a chance to form a consensus. "For tea?" She quickly amended, not wanting to sound like some harlot begging a man to lay with her.

"Tea?" Carver smirked, a slight shake in his body as he silently chuckled.

"Yes, you do drink it." She shrugged, feeling flustered now. Why was he being difficult and embarrassing? "I've seen you."

"I am not sure I am in the mood for tea." He shook his head sadly no.

"Neither am I." She submitted to whatever game this was, sealing victory with the colliding of lips, tongues and finger tips dragging his body through her open door.


	14. Soft on the inside

**Chapter 14: Soft on the inside**

"That bitch! That harlot! OW!" Byron slapped the elf woman, hard, across the face as she tended to his wounds. "Not so tight, elf."

He disappeared back into his teeth grinding, sneering monologue of anger as the elf woman bit back the pain; eyes unfocused and drawn to a better time and place. Hesitantly, she reached for the half wrapped bandage and continued to pull it taut about the man's gut, effectively holding the poultice buried into the deep wound. He ground out another snarl of discomfort but did not strike again.

"I apologize Veera." A hand snaked around her waist as she finished tying the ends of cloth together. "Does it hurt?" Byron pulled her closer, her hands bracing her body from falling against his chest whilst his other hand reached up and smoothed the reddening flesh of her cheek with cooling fingertips. "You are so good to me. And I am not to you." His pupils flicked between her eyes her focus distracted, far away, not that his lips minded as they searched the flesh between neck and shoulder. "You forgive me don't you?" A lustful growl erupted, hot wanting breath harsh against her breast as he nuzzled his forehead gratefully between soft womanly cleavage. "You always forgive me."

There was a knock from the other side of the room followed by the scraping of a door pushed open half-mast. Byron paused his ministrations; a breast cupped in one hand, tongue lavishing the other as he peeled the woman's dress from her shoulders.

"Leave!" He growled dangerously at whomever, whatever had entered his lair. There was a clip, tap, pat as heavy boots moved heel to toe over the cobbled stone floor towards the busy master and elf consort that caused Byron to frown into a complete stop, pushing his nightly lover away for a look. "I said out!" There was a pause, eerie and swollen with questions before finally the master blinked it in. "Thorn? Why did you not announce yourself?"

"You were busy." Thorn indicated the half naked elf with the tilt of his head.

"Indeed." He flailed a hand, bidding the other closer and like an after thought wafting the elf away. "Later, Veera."

The woman, eyes glazed and hands slow to redress, did as she was told and walked the distance from point a to point b towards the open door. Thorn watched her beneath his cloak hood, his features unreadable as he eyed the Chantry symbol burned into the flesh of her forehead. Why Byron was so obsessed with a tranquil woman he would never know; they were just shells still warm and blinking. As the door behind him clicked shut he too followed directed movement and came forward towards the warmth of the fire and cold heart of his employee.

"What news?" Byron slouched back on his chaise longue, a sort of comfy chair long enough to accommodate the injured man's legs, with a pertinent grin of excitement. "She went to see him didn't she? That dirty wench. That common old whore. Tell me what you witnessed!"

"It was not as we hoped." His voice was low, dangerous by its very nature as if he wielded great power barely constrained by the flick and lash of his tongue.

"Tell me anyway." Byron's shoulders drooped with concealed disappointment, his elbows braced on either armrest to allow the bend and embrace of fingertips in front of his wary gaze.

Silence descended like a welcomed plague, Thorn taking the steel prod leaning against the hearth in order to poke without malice at the dying fire until reignited by missed logs previously out of reach. As the rumble of combustion grew loud enough to fight the silence back he returned the prod to its place and turned with the lifting of his hood. A great mane of angry wild hair, ebony with pitiless streaks of silver, drifted free around a tanned and scarred face accented with eyes of gold; the kind of predators and never prey.

"Evelyn journeyed out across the coast with several of her men. They spent the evening at an inn but no one but the innkeeper spoke with them. No letters, no nightly rendezvous."

"Suspicious." Byron scowled, eyes darting from left to right before settling back on the silhouette in front of his fire.

"They hired horses, took them in circles around the neighbouring forest then waited."

"Waited for what?"

"I do not know, messere." Thorn shrugged, almost apologetically. "That… Carlos discovered me."

"And you live?" His hands tumbled like a house of cards to his lap, he didn't know whether to be furious at his subordinate's failure or impressed the brute had not sent him home missing limbs.

"I am grateful for my life." Thorn admitted, coming forward and allowing his cloak to reveal strong burly arms covered in fresh scars and bruising. Now that the dim light fell onto his figure, instead of blocked by his ample back, Byron could finally see the differing shades of black and blue adorning his face.

"Did you score a few hits or just let him beat you to a pulp man?"

"We both wear scars." Thorn growled, protective of his war wounds and even more so proud of those he had inflicted.

"Leave me to think. Get some rest and I will have plans for you to execute when we speak again." Byron brought his clenched fist down on the soft stuffing of his chair with a hollow thud. Another set back, another failure. "And tell Veera to return on your way out."

There was hesitation in Thorn's steps, air paused its too and fro cycle between lips and lung. He wondered for a moment about things he should not wonder; sharp teeth and claws, biting, tearing through soft sated flesh to end the beating of an already dead heart. With a drawing of breath, he lifted the hood of his cloak back over his head and reached for the door. Was anyone worthy of mercy?

* * *

><p>It had been a few days since the blistered whore incident. Training Juliannah was proving a far worse chore than guarding the silly girl as she continually cried, whined and often sat down refusing to get up again after only a few minutes practice. Aeron was also getting tired of being called 'mean' and accused of 'shouting'. Did the precious little puff pastry really think muscles and skills developed like magical fruit on a tree that she could just gobble down like she ate everything else within arm reach? Still, she had a plan. A very cunning plan.<p>

"Should I tell Nora to get you another pot pie ready?" Carver was watching her, face scrunched up in a mixture of disgust and pride his… companion could shove so much into her mouth in one bite.

"What?" She muffled through a mouthful of pastry and paused her cramming to chew. Old habits died hard. When food was around she just kind of downed it like water in a desert out of impulse. "No this is fine, Carver."

He continued to watch her for a moment longer, a reassured, cocky, smirk gracing his features as secretive thoughts flashed behind his eyes. She still wasn't exactly sure how any of this had really occurred. One minute she was minding her business, helping her grandma sort out piles of other peoples laundry on her day off and the next she'd stormed out of the their hovel and over to the Hawke residence demanding he come eat pie at the Hanged man for lunch. It wasn't as if they were… were they? Was this how you courted? It was awkward, that was for sure and she'd already seen him naked. _Creators was that night a disaster_, she groaned internally and externally gaining Carvers undivided attention once again.

"If you eat that fast of course you'll feel sick." He half scowled, half smirked; repeating advice his mother had knocked into him from birth.

"I. Am. Fine." She pronounced each word carefully, hoping that the meaning would sink in and stop the man from fussing over her as if she were a child.

Silently they both went back to their meal, the rustle of flaky pastry and chewing filling the void between them. Creators she was frustrated, sexually frustrated. She needed to get her own place or something. When she had dragged him through her door she hadn't been prepared for the mess they were about to plunge into. Grandma was asleep, thank goodness, but that didn't mean he could just bend her over the table and take her the way she wanted him to. Oh no, they had to be quiet and not wake the old bat. If he were an elf, she'd probably get away with some intimate groaning but so much as an, 'oh Maker,' and the game would be up. She'd know, the stupid old woman would know and she'd never hear the end of it for months. 'A shem!' 'How could you do this to me?' _No pointed eared great-grand-children for you grandma_, Aeron snorted.

"What are you laughing at?" Carver was suspicious.

"My grandma." Aeron allowed her lips to part, showing a line of teeth with her grin.

"Did she… hear something?" He shifted uncomfortably. "I really tried to be quiet like you asked."

"No- well. She suspects. I finally got a lecture this morning about…" She shrugged. "Stuff."

"Maybe I could introduce myself." Carver reached for his ale, trying to feign casual behaviour. "It might make it easier if… if she-"

"No." Aeron's eyes widened.

"What? Why?"

"Because…" She had to phrase this just right. "My grandma doesn't like… your brother."

"I don't like him much either." Carver pushed his pie dish away, having finished his meal and trying to now focus on being malcontent. "We have something in common."

"Hah." Aeron paused to take another bite of her pie, clearing the plate before moving her own dish to sit beside his. "That might be but she doesn't like you by proxy either."

"But I am nothing like Garrett."

"She's an old woman. Let her have her mental disorder."

"Are you sure that is how things are?" Carver caught her in the web of his stern, serious tone.

"What do you mean?" She coughed delicately into her closed fist, looking more for a reason to keep her eyes away from his than genuine throat tickling.

"Is it your grandma that does not approve of me, or are you too embarrassed to tell her?"

"Carver," she leaned forward in her chair, a tentative hand reaching out to sweep over his much larger one, "I may have my issues but my grandma in this case is completely mental. Far more than I."

He went quiet for a moment, watching the way her hand fit neatly over his before finally drawing in a deep relieved breath. His shoulders perked up, a weight lifted and a level of distrustful malice seeping away until he finally nodded his assurance. He believed her, why should he not?

"At least she won't find out via the need for a crossbow wedding." He grumbled. "She'd really hate me then and not just for my brother."

"Why are you complaining? I thought you enjoyed yourself."

"Right. It was… a new experience," his voice lowered gradually to a whisper, "but next time I'd like to do more than just touch."

"I touched you too." She chuckled as he blushed.

Shaking the embarrassment away he wrapped his free hand around hers effectively sandwiching it between both his palms and gave a light squeeze. He was being laughed at but for once he didn't care, he was hearing music where from anyone else he'd hear only insult. He felt lighter than usual, brighter prospects arcing the corners of his mouth into a goofy grin. As her amusement died down, the heat in his cheeks now a warm glow, he turned her palm face up and began tracing patterns with calloused fingers against equally rough skin; it didn't stop the tingling sensation from reaching them both, however.

"You're thinking too much." She lifted her ale to her lips briefly.

"What?" He really was.

"People that think too much get all depressed and kill themselves." She frowned.

"That explains how my brother is so happy." He smiled as she laughed again at his joke. He was starting to feel giddy and lightheaded from the power he held over her, to cause her to reach such ecstatic sounds. "I could use your advice."

"Oh?" She pulled her hand loose from his, sitting up straighter in her chair with the appearance of all seriousness. His statement had been poised as searching for ultimate truth.

"I cannot keep walking in my brothers shadow." He began, looking from the grain of the wooden table, to the wall and back again to her hands folded neatly in front of her. "I need… I need my own path. Something more than…"

"The expectations of a younger son."

"Exactly." He watched her, like a hawk, predatory eyes searching out movement and the desire for something more on the horizon. "Back in Fereldan I was a soldier. I was at Ostagar when the darkspawn attacked and barely made it back to Lothering, for mother, Bethany and Garrett, alive. When we fled to Kirkwall, everything was suddenly so different. We worked for a year with the Red iron, Meeran's mercenaries." She nodded, acknowledging she knew the man he spoke of before Carver continued. "Aveline, she came with us from Lothering and joined up with the guard straight away. I tried becoming a guard on sever- don't laugh at me. Please."

"Sorry." She chewed her lip, holding an amused smirk at bay. "Continue."

"Aveline won't let me join the guard and I can't keep playing the part of mothers little soldier protecting her from Gamlen's debt collectors."

"I know that feeling." She sighed, thinking about Kharis and all the babysitting duties that entailed. "It seems, unless you learn a new profession, you're lumped with three options. Mercenary," he shook his head with a solemn frown, "Coterie thug," he simply scowled disbelieving this time, "or Templar."

"Templar?" He leaned away as if she had just set fire to a basket of kittens in front of him. "You've met my brother. My sister and father were mages too. We spent our whole lives running and hiding, moving from town to sleepy village hiding from those bloody bastards."

"Exactly."

"What do you mean 'exactly'?" He was getting angry and she only shrugged it off with passive indifference. "I would be betraying my family if I put on that armour."

"You're looking at it all wrong." She wafted a hand with the roll of her eyes waiting for him to settle back into his seat. "Templars are bad horrible men and women in heavy armour being mean and nasty to mages Thedas over."

"Yes." He affirmed, folding his arms and waiting for the punch-line.

"Well here you are, Carver Hawke, proud warrior from a family of mages well versed in the dangers and… less dangers of magic." She smiled as his glower was starting to slip at her theatrical rubbing of his ego. Maybe she should become a recruiter. "The perfect man for the job. Strong and firm in the face of blood mages, understanding to little mage children ripped crying from their mothers skirts and knowing how to respect a mage for the person they are, not the demon they could become."

"You make a very good argument, Aeron." A sliver of a smile escaped his unwilling lips. He had a reputation to uphold.

"I know."

"But I couldn't… be with a woman."

"I wouldn't worry about that. I see Templars going in and out of the Blooming Rose all the time."

"I don't mean that. I mean…" He gave her a longing stare. "What about us?"

"Oh." Was all she said, looking up to meet his eyes for a moment before his gaze shifted ever so slightly away from the crimson colour.

"Carver, Aeron." A gravelly familiar voice greeted low and dangerously, causing the pair to strain their ears to hear.

"Fenris." Carver frowned, displeased at the interruption. "Looking for my brother?"

"Perhaps." Fenris ignored the bitter youngster, settling into a seat beside Aeron. "Merrill said you were looking for me." He practically hissed the elf-woman's name but managed to control himself enough to form the rest of the sentence minus a sneer.

"Yes." She shifted uneasily under his unrelenting stare. She was not used to anyone holding eye contact for so long. "I need to ask… I need your help."

"Why could you not have asked me?" Carver leaned back in his chair, feeling left out of something important yet again.

"It's not the kind of thing I expect you would have experience with." She shrugged in answer to the human's question.

"What is it you need?" Fenris moved his legs casually for comfort. He had a bad feeling this request would be something he did not wish to take part in, especially if it involved something he had experience with but not the other warrior.

"You don't have to look so disgruntled. Not as if I'm going to ask you to be my slave for the day." Aeron rolled her eyes, drowning her tongue in ale while the elf groaned. "Have you ever taught someone to fight?"

"A little. I sparred with my mast- Danarius's guards as per their training weekly." He scrunched his shoulders up towards his neck in a gesture of discomfort at old memories and agreement. "Do you require lessons?"

"Do I look like I need lessons?" She snorted before her eyebrows rose at the elf's moment of pondering followed by a slight nod. "Bastard…" She muttered into her ale before washing away the last of her mugs contents. "No. My charge, Juliannah-"

"The large girl that Hawke is infatuated with?"

"Yes, that's her." She confirmed, initiating a nod for her to continue from the elf. "She has it in her head to learn."

"And you want me to train her?"

"Why not me?" Carver frowned.

"Because…" Aeron sighed. "She's in love with most of the men she meets and you're currently one of them."

"Maker…" Carver cringed away from the table, taking his ale with him to drown out the images suddenly flooding his mind.

"And you are not worried she will… be interested in me?" Fenris queried.

"No. She's never shown an interest in elves." Aeron shrugged, tapping out an amused rhythm on the table as she watched Carver curl his arms around his torso trying to hug the unrequited love interest away. "Not that I think she is racist. Stupid, sure. Besides, the fact I have to deal with her and her mother at all is entirely your fault."

"Fair enough. But I was under the impression that the wine and dancing had settled my debt."

"Wine and dancing?" Carver shot up onto his feet, startling the barmaid behind him into dropping a frothy tankard on the floor. "When was this?"

"Weeks ago, at my cousin's wedding." Aeron shrugged, unsure why the human was causing such a scene; though Fenris's sneaky smirk soon clued her in. "Don't tease him at my expense."

"I was not." Those green orbs gave nothing away, a passive stare of impenetrable defenses.

"Why didn't you invite me?" Carver returned to his seat, leaning over the table with a pointed finger and jealousy written all over his face.

"I hardly knew you, you're not an elf, my grandma is crazy… would you like me to continue?" Aeron stood now, not liking his accusing tone. "And I never even invited him!" She pointed at the spectator ex-slave. Oh he was good at that innocent routine. She'd get him good for this one later. "He just showed up out of the blue and my grandma started meddling trying to marry us."

"Marry you? She likes him?" Carvers voice was booming now, the scattering of afternoon patrons turned in their seats to watch the show as the couple bickered. "How can she like him and not me?"

"Because you're a shem!"

There was a loud thud and creak of a worn chair receiving the dead weight of a human warrior whose knees had just given out on him. He stared at her, disbelieving as the breath hitched in her throat; ears burning a muted cherry. Such a small thing exploding with such hate filled shrapnel.

"Is that how you see me?" His voice was quiet now, though so was the room as ears strained to catch the disheveled sound; eyes downcast in misery. "I didn't think you were capable of being a racist, Aeron. You're a bloody… shem," he chewed out the slur, unfamiliar of its texture, "yourself."

She stiffened, hands gripping the edge of the table until her knuckles turned white and fingertips numbed painfully. She didn't know what to say, it would probably make things worse if she said anything. Would it make things worse if she said nothing then? Relationships, people, socialization, elves, sh- humans. It was too hard, to much, complexity at its most… multifaceted.

It was then that she noticed the eyes on her, burning tiny holes through her outer shield. The bar patrons, that evil elf at her side but they could not hurt as much as the lack of contact from the discontented man in front of her.

"Shit." She hissed and stormed out of the tavern.


	15. Snip, snip

**Chapter 15: Snip, snip  
><strong>

Hawke was in a fantastic mood. His beard had started to grow back, giving him a sexy, irresistible man of mystery rub and save a woman's essence for later sprinkle of black and thatch shadow. Isabela was loving it, especially when he tickled her sensitive regions with his prickles. It was certainly giving him a renewed swagger to his walk, he felt as if he could part the oceans and impregnate the very trees with his manliness.

"I am glad you decided to take this job, Hawke." Aveline waded in on his crotch obsessed daydreaming. "It will go a long way to appeasing the Viscount. Rumour has been reaching the keep about your extra activities. That incident with the magister's son has not helped matters."

"Is that why the Seneschal was glaring at me?"

"No." She sighed; he wasn't taking this seriously. He never took anything seriously. "The Seneschal is a bureaucrat. Besides, he would be well within reason to loathe you. You've created many waves that have reached the viscounts office. That sort of thing makes the administration appear weak and earns you a great deal of enemies, Hawke."

"So, what? Am I suppose to sit on my hands all day and thumb my arse incase breaking wind sets off a chain of events that causes the Orelsian Empress to declare war on Kirkwall?" Hawke pouted, jogging down the Hightown steps into the afternoon bustle of Lowtown's market.

"That seems unlikely." Aveline frowned at the imagery.

"Good." Hawke settled to an affirmed nod. "Because as much as I am in love with your adorable freckles, Aveline, I will still tell you where to shove it if you try and keep me locked in my room like a naughty teenager incase I upset a noble."

"Of course not." She shrugged as they neared the Hanged man. "I will just lock you in the keep dungeon for disturbing the peace."

"Av-e-line." He bit his lip, pronouncing her name with a sultry flamboyance. "I always knew you were looking for any excuse to have me chained up and vulnerable in your dungeon. Ready to beat the sedition out of me and mould me into a strong reliable man like that Donnic fellow."

"Stop it Hawke." She gave him a pointed stare, backed up sharply by a threatening swat to the back of his head.

"Ouch, assault!" Hawke pouted before breaking out into a chortle at the irritated look on the Guard-Captain's face.

With a shake of her head she followed the barmy mage into the tavern, drinking in the sight of somber alcoholics and hungry workers eagerly shoveling pie into their mouths. They were there to collect the storyteller, Varric, and begin a magnificent quest to the wounded coast in hopes of retrieving the viscount's son before a band of ruthless mercenaries known as the Winters. Aveline was coming along not as a member of the guard, of course, but as a friend and companion to Hawke. The viscount's office could not be seen officially asking the cities law enforcement for help for fear of provoking a panic at qunari interests.

"Fenris, just the elf I need." Hawke leaned his weight onto the edge of the table Fenris and Carver were sat at. "All right Carver? You're looking extra sour today I see."

"Leave it, brother." Carver sighed into his third ale, trying to drown his big head in a small cup.

"What do you need, Hawke?" Fenris shifted his legs, one over the other with a curious gaze.

"Wine, women and song." Hawke's lecherous grin was enough to ignite a pursed pouting of the white-haired man's luscious lips. "But I could do with another descent sword arm to help up with our trip out towards the coast."

"Anything you need." Fenris stood, his stance ready and willing to be taken out adventuring.

"You can come too, Carver." Hawke frowned at the half wasted kid-brother not even fighting him back with his eyes. Where had the last few days bounce gone out of him? "Or not."

"Huhmmm." Carver sighed away from the table, his empty cup forgotten as he stood on dejected legs and stared longingly at some distance world full of naked nymphs and well-intentioned promises. If he got anymore melodramatic looking, Hawke mentally swore he'd lop the boy's balls off and get it over with. "I am with you, brother."

"Are you sure? You look like you're with a desire demon in the fade." He looked away from the melancholy youth as a prickling of sound caught his attention from across the room. A dwarf waving his greeting as he descended the stairs from the second level. "Remember Carver, don't accept anything she promise's you."

"Sage advice." Fenris agreed though Aveline caught the impression he knew more of the fact than Hawke's fiction.

"What?" Carver frowned.

"Hawke!" Varric exclaimed, his arms wide in greeting. "And Broody, Junior and Aveline too. Where's Rivian? We should make this a party, we haven't been all together in a while."

"She said she had to see a man about a book." Hawke shrugged as if the pirate could of meant anything. "We're all heading out to the wounded coast to rescue the viscount's boy from quanri."

"And the Winters." Aveline added.

"Sounds dangerous." Varric rubbed his chin in thought. "And like the beginning to an epic tale. Count me in."

As normally occurred with their band of mismatched professionals and mildly loony odd-balls, they set out immediately for the coast filling one another in on the details as they went. With such a variety of members you never knew who was available or up for a random job so it really was a pick and mix of surprises. At least Varric always had a new, and more ludicrous than the last, story to tell the drunks of Kirkwall every night or so.

Following the path of dirt meeting sand down the coastline Hawke was soon tiring of his brooding little brother. He got enough of that eerie woeful aura from Fenris most days. The little ragamuffin was even avoiding and ignoring his wordy jabs like they were nothing but moss smelling air. _Bloody moody git,_Garrett cursed with a frown.

With their destination already pre-planned it did not take long finding the angry looking band of mercenaries picking on a, very pretty, weeping young man. They really did give off the appearance of a bunch of school bullies, taunting the weird kid in the class over his love of bunnies and pink ribbon; though in this case the bunny being a dead qunari at the viscount's son's feet.

"And the world's rid of one more Quanri." The lead bully smirked over her kill, her cronies flanking her on either side. "Easier than I expected. Call the men back." She shouted over to a scout that quickly skipped off past Hawke and his cohorts. "We've got an appointment with the viscount. Isn't that right, Saemus."

"Ashaad… you killed him." Saemus stood like only an angry, stuttering, posh, white boy can. "You… you vashedan bitch!"

"That one of their words?" She swayed her hand in a dismissive gesture before returning it to the tight embrace of the other against her lack of breast. "See, that's why you need to be dragged home. You're playing too nice with those things. I'll wager you've gone even further than that. Haven't you, brat?"

"That sounded alarmingly like wishful thinking on your part there." Garrett wandered into the crowd of Winters and victim like a man who has forgotten what a shanking is.

"Competition? Well, you're too late." Lead bully scowled at the brazen man before fanning her own ego. "The Winters… I have already claimed him."

"Serah!" It was Saemus this time, posh-boy accent squalling in indignant fashion as if someone had served him half-price wine. "If I must go back, so be it, but I will not see these… murderers rewarded!"

"Spoiled shit! I'll cut out your tongue and charge extra for bringing you back quiet! And as for you… I could do with some entertainment while we wait for the others."

"We expected as much." Fenris grimaced at the hideous woman threatening them and unsheathed his great sword with a bored sort of effort. This was going to be easy.

The lead bandit pulled out a set of huge, over compensating daggers and twirled them fiercely with a smug chortle at the sour looking elf. Archers on the rocks above them and a couple of swordsmen readied their weapons in copycat unison for the pending battle. With a somewhat despondent sigh Hawke tossed his staff in the air with a twirl and caught it again with a look to Varric signaling for the dwarf to take the two archers on the left. Really, this lot were not prepared for the ravishing they were about to receive.

"You know I'm a mage right?" He questioned the lead thug.

"What?" She looked momentarily puzzled then settled for wide-eyed astonishment as Hawke made a theatric pew-pew sound and instantly electrocuted a couple of archers that fell from the rocks above. Varric taking his cue dispatched of his set with a hum. "You bastards!"

The leader roared her offense, blades arcing through the air only to get bounced back by a very big sword attached to a very skinny elf. She cursed him out flying at him again only to be repelled over and over. Her remaining men around her succumbing quickly to the joint efforts of two warriors, an archer and a cackling mage juggling fireballs as if he were some deranged clown. By this point Hawke and co were feeling sorry for the poor dear, it was more like murdering kittens than a proper fight but she at least seemed to be holding her own with the heart stealer.

Somersaulting out of the elf's wide reach she suddenly disappeared into a puff of smoke, broken glass lining the floor beneath his feet from the flask she had used. His stance was strong, defensive as he listened to the sounds around him waiting for his opponent to mess up. Aveline moved to stand with the elf but was held back with a firm grip on her shoulder by Hawke.

"Lets give the poor woman at least the pretend of a fair fight."

"You are cruel sometimes, Hawke." Aveline frowned at the cheer written across the man's face. He was having a wonderful time as if he were at a gladiator ring but obeyed his request nonetheless.

Fenris was stock still, not a muscle even daring to twitch as he drew the smallest of oxygen through his nose clearing his ears of all but the barest of sounds. Where was she? Circling him? The smoke was starting to clear now, the acrid stench of the plumes leaving his sense of smell a little off. He didn't so much hear as feel the change in air pressure as the path of daggers cut through the atmosphere towards his exposed back. In an instance his lithe form dropped to his knees, flexibility resting his skull to the sand below with his blade arcing wide up and then down cleaving the woman clean in half with all the strength at his control. There was a slurping sound as the elf rolled to the safety of his feet and the woman's body tittered forward before splitting in half, daggers impaling into the coastline.

"Fenris!" Garrett leaned on Varric for support as he tried not to puke from the sight of guts and various organs spilling out all over the sand. "Why are you always so disgusting?"

"Dead and good riddance but… she said she was waiting for more." Saemus had appeared from his hiding place behind a bush, somehow with immaculate hair. "A lot more!"

"Well, let them come." Carver was feeling back in spirits, or at least pissed off at something; the two were often indistinguishable.

As if that were their cue to enter, a confused looking batch of mercenaries stampede into the scene. Several taking a look at the messy display of the ex-group leader and turning tail but sufficient of them getting enraged enough to start charging the lines.

Carver was the first into the fray this time, he dashed forward with a great rally cry that spurred Fenris and Aveline to his side. A great sword working the crowd at either ends while Aveline blocked killer blows from reaching her allies with her shield and the occasional stab of a short sword. Varric ran for higher ground, seeking a spot to best let Bianca greet their guests. Hawke hung back from the three warriors holding the line and began preparing to cast one of his favourite spells.

Clouds were brewing above the back and fro tussle of mercenaries and adventurers, held in place by the bottleneck of the clearing. Varric had finally reached a good spot as the sky began to darken, the sun hidden behind black angry clouds. He fired a couple of shots, downing an enemy archer that was also trying to find a tasty range to shoot from.

"Pull back!" Hawke bellowed with a menacing cackle as Aveline gave one last great push with her shield, causing a scattering of mercenaries to take a tumble backwards into the rest of their gang like a domino effect.

Fenris and Carver quickly dislodged themselves with the guardswoman right behind, Carver pausing for a sneaky punch to the face of an enemy swordsman that tried to right himself. As the three warriors cleared the direct line of fire Hawke roared to the heavens in pure delight, the wind fierce as it tossed his hair around with abandon. The very heavens were at his bidding and with that power he called forth wind, rain and finally a great burst of lightening that collided with a blinding flash at the spot the enemy once stumbled.

As rapidly as it came the storm suddenly dissipated, the magic sustaining it dwindling as the casting mage dropped to his knees in a tired but satisfied heap. Oh that had been glorious, his best rendition ever. With a happy chuckle he stared at the space where once men were and saw only ash and warped glass created when the sand had superheated. With Aveline's help he finally stood receiving an impressed clap on the shoulders from the guardswoman and a disgusted look from the disgusting elf.

"Oh Andraste, I've never seen so many corpses. So much blood!" Saemus seemed genuinely devastated, but the posh-accent still kind of spoilt the dramatic flare. "Ashaad never lied, never coddled. You were worth his time, or you were not. They are not the brutes others claim they are. Take me to my father, and I will try again to make him see."

"It's clear this was not your first encounter with this "Ashaad." Aveline watched the young man with a curious gaze, the inner detective difficult to silence.

"I met him soon after their ship foundered. I had run, again, to escape the Keep and my father. Ashaad was to map the coast to "find an answer for the Arishok." I had so many doubts. Qunari have none."

"Why did you run?" The guardswoman just kept scratching at that itch.

"I am the viscount's son, bound by everything that means. Ashaad did not care. We were both seeking something. That was enough."

"I confess, I'm not sure what one does with a dead Qunari." Hawke kneeled, looking at the dead qunari with a hint of wonder.

"The body is no longer him and is worthy of no special treatment." Fenris wafted his response into the fray of people, gaining him several inquisitive looks.

"That is apparently their way." Saemus nodded, his eyes now glued to the tattooed elf's form as if just noticing him for the first time.

"Should his people be told?" Aveline interrupted the two men, elf and human caught in a bizarre sultry staring contest. Even Varric was taking keen interest now, removing a quill and paper from his many pockets and scribbling something delightfully tasty down.

"They will know. Whether they will deign to acknowledge it, I have no idea." Saemus replied, not dropping his gaze for a second. "There was much of Ashaad I didn't understand, but it was so very worth trying." He finished that last part as if speaking directly to the elf.

"I am feeling awkward." Garrett grimaced at the two. "Can we go home now, Please?"

"I am at your whim, serah." Saemus nodded, reluctantly breaking eye contact with Fenris and making Hawke shudder at the thought of another man being at his 'whim'.

As they headed back towards Kirkwall, Saemus and Fenris walked together at the back of the group. Normally Garrett would have demanded the prize, captive, whatever be in the middle where they could all keep an eye on it-him but in this case all the gay vibes in the air demanded a change of tactics. Varric was still scribbling away on his parchment, chuckling every now and then and stealing glances at the broody elf and blushing damsel behind him. Aveline just looked bored, like she just couldn't wait to get back to her office and do paperwork instead of adventuring; then again she always looked that way.

As Hawke finally tore his gaze away from his team he couldn't help but groan at the aura of doom and gloom coming off his glum sibling once again. This was really starting to become a nuisance.

"Stop moping." Garrett whined.

"Right." Carver grunted.

"At least argue with me!"

"Huhmmm." He sighed.

"Void take you then…" Garrett crossed his arms with a grumpy pout. Now he was getting all depressed too.

"I want to go with you on the deeproad expedition." Carver finally broke the silence between them with a resolved tone.

"No."

"Brother!"

"Mother would fight her way through the archdemon to kill me if I brought you along." Was this what had been bothering him all this time? "Besides, the only reason we got involved with this scheme was to hide me from the Templars. It isn't your problem."

"I did not mean- brother, the way I said it back then when we first tried to join the expedition, it came out all wrong." Carver clasped his hand on his brother's shoulder, tight, confident and sincere in apology. "We're family."

"Unfortunately." Garrett snorted. "I'll think about it."

"Fair enough, brother." Carver let go, his hand returning to its place at his side as he continued to march on, staring blindly at the ground beneath him.

"Maker…" Garrett rolled his eyes. "What is wrong with you Carver? You were bouncy like a basket of kittens all week and today not even my impending death could make you smile. You used to love fantasizing about that."

"Huhmmm." Carver sighed for the umpteenth time.

"AHHHRGGH!" Hawke paused, mid-stride to give an over dramatic cry to the heavens.

"If you will not tell him then I will!" Fenris declared in a low dangerous tone, gaining him a look of heartbroken fury from the younger Hawke. "Your brother had a lovers quarrel in the Hanged man shortly before you arrived, Hawke."

"Carver?" Hawke froze in place, his ears straining to distinguish the groaning noises coming from his brother's lips. "…Who is she? Nora? No, no, no… that cute girl from the butchers that gives you extra cuts on the beef."

"No!" Carver groaned loudly, shielding his eyes as if this would turn him invisible for a masterful escape. "Aeron…"

"I knew it." Aveline declared.

"Aeron?" Hawke was all manly, stoic, passiveness as he watched his sibling disbelieving. It wasn't until a second groan was followed with a nod that Garrett finally twitched, his whole body coming to life with a grotesque guffaw of utter amusement.

As they re-entered the city Garrett was still attempting to clear the tears of ecstasy from his eyes. Maker did his ribs hurt from all the amusement of the day. Carver was now in a somewhat prickly state, a wild look in his eyes like a cornered sewer rat just daring anyone to lay a hand on him. Varric had briefly attempted to pump him for information but had quickly been dissuade by a more understanding guardswoman and redirected to the blossoming 'something' going on between a scowling elf and flirtatious noble. Varric could tell he was on to a best seller already. It would be a story for the ages. An ex-slave that has lost all hope in freedom and humanity finding solace in the arms of a young prince. Their love forbidden, the king denying there union and they must meet in secret for very detailed love scenes that Isabela would have ample fun writing later.

"I don't know what I would have done if you had not come to my rescue, serah." Saemus smiled in Fenris's direction.

"Returned to your father with the Winters one would suspect." Fenris gave nothing away.

"Is that Aeron?" Aveline pulled Carver to a halt and manhandled him to face the direction she had spotted the young woman.

"It is! I'd recognize that skinny- fine woman anywhere." Garrett corrected himself as Carver started glaring. "Who is she with and why is he waving around a dead seagull?"

"That's her cousin Kharis, Hawke." Varric pushed between the jumble of human's to get a better look at the two sitting on the edge of the docks. "And I believe they plan to eat the bird."

"What? Are they edible?"

"What do you think the 'meat' is in the Hanged man food?"

"Rat?" Hawke shrugged.

"That too." Varric chuckled.

"You should go over there and sort things out." Aveline shoved Carver forward only to have him scramble back. "If you leave it too long you might end up regretting how things were left."

"No." Carver glowered, swiping a warning finger under Fenris's nose as an after thought before he could open his big mouth again. "And you stop meddling in my private business. This was all your fault!"

"Where are you going?" Hawke called after his brothers retreating back.

"To mind the chickens!" The younger Hawke disappeared in a furious beeline for home.

There was a confused, pregnant pause for a moment as everyone watched the space where Carver once was until finally eyes shifted over towards the brooding elf. Even Saemus appeared to have expanded his curiosity beyond the sexual kind.

"Fenris-" Hawke began only to be cut off by a bristling, possibly embarrassed elf.

"Saemus, your father is waiting." Fenris began coaxing the pliable young man toward the Keep again.

* * *

><p>"Stop moping, he's just some shem." Kharis drooped his weight over his cousin's shoulders; rubbing his cheek against hers in an affectionate manner. "Grandma, my mother, they'd tie you too the tree in the courtyard until you got your elven roots back again, if they found out about him. It's for the best."<p>

"Hmmm. Maybe." Aeron head butted him back gently. "But…" She trailed off, staring off at the setting sun as it reached for the calm ocean. "Maybe."

"You know, you changed when you were away." Kharis eased off, sliding onto the dock besides her and mimicking the way she trailed her naked toes in the salty water below. "When we were children you hated shem as much as the rest of us. Now you think too much about it. It's like… it's like you want to be one."

"Kharis!" She thwacked him round his big pointed ears. "I don't want to be a anything."

"See you have changed."

"I was away for nearly fifteen years, the amount of shit that happened. Kharis you don't know a thing. You don't know…" Aeron grit her teeth, great gulps of air driving in an out of nostrils. Not quite angry, not quite sad, not quite any one emotion all at once until finally she punched the wooden beams beneath her with a stifled yelp of pain. "You remember some child cousin you used to follow around when our parents were out working, trying desperately to fit in and be something the other children told me I would never be. Then things changed and I'm in a new place where none of that matters anymore. I'm not a shem, I'm not a knife-ear, I'm not even Aeron anymore. I'm 'girl'. 'Girl, fetch my sword.' 'Girl, swab the deck.' 'Girl, unload the crates.' And you know what? The really fucked up thing about it all? I liked it. I didn't have shit all to prove to anyone about where my species loyalties lay. It didn't matter."

"Then why are you here?" Kharis had looked away, peeling off feathers from his prize gull as a distraction from getting annoyed. "Why didn't you just stay with that perfect life where none of us matter?"

"Ha ha ha!" There was something manic in that laughter. "Why else? That life betrayed me too."

"We've never betrayed you!" Kharis spat back. "Don't you dare accuse us of that."

"What do you call it then, when your own family tells you it's all right to be who you are just as long as you're not what you are?"

"You know…" Kharis snorted in amused thinking. "Sometimes you sound just like how I remember aunt Eralen."

"I'm surprised you even remember my mother." Aeron sighed. "I hardly remember her at all and what little I do, I wish I could forget."

"How could anyone forget such amazing story telling?"

"I think you mean madness." She grimaced at distant memories. Eaves dropped snippets of conversations between housewives of the woman, Eralen's insanity.

"Oh Aeron goddess of war and fire. Forgive the hearts of men for they know not what they do. Return your feet to the river of your birth and- OW!"

"Stop reciting that shit or I'll hit you with the seagull again!" Aeron held up the dead bird ready for round two.

"That hurt!" Kharis pouted, rubbing the side of his head and dislodging several feathers from his hair. "You know though, I don't think you really changed all that much. Your eyes might be a funny colour now but you're still my cousin. You were always this mean but bashing people that picked on me."

"And you were always a little shit." She dropped the dead bird back in his lap.

"Yeah, but I'm like my Da. Except I'm not going to end up in prison like he did." Kharis smirked nudging his cousin in the ribs with his elbow. "Speaking of Da's."

"Oh shit. You didn't waste anytime did you?"

"What can I say? Elves are plucky." He gave a little victory dance in the shoulders. "Mother reckons she'll be due near the end of winter. Can't say I know exactly how it all works. My part is over though isn't it."

"I wouldn't count yourself out yet." Aeron was torn between puking and scowling but settled for a congratulatory slap on the back. "I can't believe my baby cousin is having a baby. This is so wrong."

"Ha ha, take it as pay back for not letting me flee the city on the day of the wedding."

"Regrets?"

"Nah." He shrugged, getting to his feet with seagull in hand. "Scared, sure but things is what they is. Better get this bird home before I'm missed. You coming?"

"No, I… I need to be alone for a bit."

"All right." Kharis tossed his prize onto his shoulder. "Don't be too long or grandma will… go to bed and moan about it to my mother and wife in the morning. Then they'll complain about it to me and demand I tell you to stop making grandma worried."

"Night Kharis." Aeron waved him off with a chuckle.

As the sun finally breached the ocean depths on the horizon, she lifted her feet from the cooling water below and pressed her knees to her chest. Shem, knife-ear, why was it such a big deal anyway? Sure the nobles were snobby gits but once you got down to the levels of the poor everyone was just the same really. Look at Darktown; same hungry eyes, rumbling bellies and huddles of people to warmth. Protect your own racism but who is your own when you're of mixed blood. The ones that raised you or the ones you resemble? Maybe that wasn't the point. Maybe the point was: why did she hate herself so much? She said the word, she meant it, and he was right; she was it. And what of the she- man? Was it all a joke? A game? A human trick or a moment of taboo curiosity? It had happened before though, hadn't it.

"Dior." She dipped her head into the embrace of her knees. "I wonder what has happened to you friend."

It was getting dark now, the sun tipsy from exhaustion yawning its last breath of twilight before being tucked into its sea bed by the sister moon. So many questions and so little answers. Any more time spent on her internal monologue and she'd just end up frozen by the night's ocean breeze and sleeping, hungry at the docks. Not a good way to wake in the morning, especially when she had more training with Juliannah to contend with.

With a protracted measure of movement she stood, stretching out cold and stiff limbs with a series of cracks and pops that elicited several pleasured sounds from her chest. There was nothing better than a good stretch, well, except perhaps pie and a warm bed. With that in mind and a preoccupied smirk tugging at the corners of her lips she began the trek from quiet dock to docile Lowtown.

It seemed normal enough, a slight chill to the air warning of a cold night ahead and the shimmy jog of the odd commuter on their way home to a family or the Hanged man for drinks with friends. The guard was there too, of course, marching their route in pairs on the look out for troublemakers and wanted men. So very typical of Kirkwall, hiding all its dirty, ceded laundry for the between hours. She had to admit that it came as a great shock when her wandering mind, concentrating on kicking pebbles in her path, was suddenly inundated with new and confusing information.

Her head snapped back, force applied to the end of her ponytail to compel the motion as a hand snaked over her mouth and pulled her hard against an armoured body. She would have bit down on the hand covering her mouth but it too was armoured in cold steel fashion. That pretty much left flailing and reaching for her sword- Oh right, she'd been doing laundry with her grandma before storming off to drag Carver off to eat lunch. It was a wonder she even had chainmail on under her tunic.

"Ffffffkkk." She attempted to swear through a gauntlet and thrashed wildly as a second hand cornered her arm and bent it painfully against her back; meanwhile her assailant permanently dragging her backwards to render her legs useless in the fight to find purchase.

"In here." She heard a hushed voice guiding her captor round a corner into a closed off alleyway.

She couldn't let them get her that far. Ignoring the twisting of her arm she made a sudden burst of agility to her feet, combining the purchase he had on her as a place of leverage and made a point of contact with the ground. With all the strength she possessed she dug that foot in with a slight bend to the knee and sprung her whole body upwards tilting as far forward with the momentum as she could. It worked to some extent, her assailant having to pause his backward journey to steady himself as both her legs bent up to her chest then kicked out behind her at where she hoped to meet unguarded crotch. There was a loud 'oof' as the double kick hit home followed by a loud crack as his hand slipped from her face and the push and tug force between the two congregating solely between his grip and her arm.

He finally let go, allowing her to tumble squealing and cursing into the dirt as he fell onto his back groaning and clutching at his balls. Her arm was broken; she could tell by the way the bone jotted at an unnatural angle and to top it off it was her sword arm. But hey, at least she still had her surprise thigh knife and that she normally wielded with her left hand so big fucking joke on these two.

She was half coward into a ball, groaning and crying over her arm whilst secretly ferreting out the knife as heavy boots came to her side not in aid but in continuance of the first attackers intentions. This guy wasn't fucking around though, all the niceties the first assailant had thrown into the mix were straight out the window as the second wrapped a large hand around her throat and kicked her hard in the ribs. That was certainly one way to stun your victim.

"Quick, grab her legs before anyone sees."

"Got it."

She was mildly aware of being lifted as the fog of pain not so much dissipated but screamed loud enough to rouse her from that little bit of nuisance fainting she'd just done. Immediately she tried kicking before really thinking it through, and got dumped unceremoniously on the ground again for her troubles before something blunt found its way into her face. Everything felt kind of groggy after that bit, the pain was still screaming, warmth was trickling down her face too and she couldn't tell if her eyes were open or shut. Everything just kind of looked the same. At least her sense of sound was working. She could hear them, heavy armour shifting with that kind of dull clang you got from the cheaper brands. Not Templars then, low grade mercenaries perhaps or the city guard. She had seen a couple of guards walking past a few minutes before all this happened now that she thought about it, but before that thought could fully form a sudden searing of pain burned her chest as she was shifted. She couldn't help that awful, treacherous whimper that left her lips followed by a wave of sobbing. It felt like she was being manhandled and undressed with broken ribs.

"Shhh, make her quiet I hear something."

She felt the cold, unforgiving presence of a gauntlet press against her lips for the second time that night but this time she almost welcomed it. The cold felt so good against the bruising, a mercy of sorts.

"They're gone. Hurry up and take your turn. I'll keep a look out."

There was that shifting of armour again, the hand from her face removed letting the heat build on her skin. Discomfort in other places as she tried desperately to opener her eyes, lift her unbroken hand but finding nothing but slight twitches of fingers her only capabilities. There was a jerking of clothing again that caused bone to scrape against bone and tumble her in and out of consciousness. Awareness was becoming harder to find in the sea of white.

"I told you I'd remember you."

What was that voice talking about? Who had she been pissing off now? Did it matter? They were probably going to kill her after they were done anyway. She would of at least attempted to enjoy it before that happened as a last stand protest but the damage already caused blocked that ability swiftly. She wasn't even sure how long she was there, drifting back and forth between fear and dreams before she recognized the sound of scuffling and groans occurring all around her. It was like being trapped in an inferno of weird noises building to a silent, panting crescendo. As that crescendo lulled in its glory a padding of heavy footfalls crunched their way closer until hands plied over her form once again. She could tell nothing but danger and finally her left arm responded to the brains call to fight. The limb shot upwards, fingertips flicking the blade hidden in her sleeve into the open and following blind desperation plunged into the closest thing at reach. There was a warmth spreading down her shaking arm, streams of vitality that belong to another staining her clothes as she wheezed through stinging lungs from the exertion.

"Clever girl." She heard a deep growl of a voice, something so familiar and soothing in its sound that made her instantly calm.

A tentative hand reached for hers, wrapping around the smaller fist and soothing with its gentleness until she was ready to let go of the weapon. She didn't know what she had hit but felt guilty for the strike nonetheless.


	16. Eyes for both worlds

**Chapter 16:** **Eyes for both worlds**

There was warmth wrapped all around her, the bitter musk of a man's odor filling her nostrils that made her forget the pain for a time. Then everything shuffled into black once again. The next time she could feel consciousness tugging at her eyelids, causing a fluttering of lashes, the safety around her had changed again. It was colder now, her flesh torn between goose bumps and burning patches of damage on naked skin. A scent of elfroot and peppermint brought her attention to a maternal presence, as hands, boney and gentle caressed salves into the breaks of her skin.

She tried to move but settled instead for a groan of displeasure at the squeals of distress this brought to her body. A trickling tinkle of water broke the returning silence as a damp cloth rested against her forehead, bringing with it a cool mercy for her thumping headache.

Healing hands returned once again to the mangling of ribs causing a hiss to escape her mouth. With an effort normally reserved for building courage to storm a castle, Aeron began peeling back the crusted, sticky flesh of her eyelids. Thank the Creators the room was dimly lit, though the candle somewhere to her left did nothing to help the blurring of her eyes. It took several blinks and a scouting lick and swallow of tongue and saliva to steady the vision of the world around her.

"How bad is it?"

"Bad." Grandma wasn't fooling around with pleasantries.

Aeron tilted her head to get a better look, naked breasts surrounded by great red and purple bruising in the shape of boot prints and striped with weeping scratches filled in with soothing balm. It probably just looked worse from the angle she was viewing it. Or at least she tried to tell herself that. She tried to bend her right arm up from the elbow, slow and steady like a raising flag until the bandages and wooden stents came into view. How long would it take for the break to heal she wondered?

"How did I get here?"

"A man carried you in."

"What man?"

"I never met him before." Grandma bristled; annoyed about something shem related no doubt. "Big fellow, kept his face covered in shadow by his cloak. But I seen those golden eyes."

"Strange." Aeron creased her brow then regretted the tug this caused against her nose.

"Sit up." Grandma reached a hand under her granddaughter, prying her up as the girl sobbed and moaned at the pain this brought forth. "Suck it in, girl."

Aeron settled into an unsteady sway on her bed, good arm resting on her grandma's shoulder for support as the elder elf wrapped a long sheet of fabric tighter and tighter around the girl's chest. It hurt her bones, caused a throbbing in her lungs but Creators did it ease the muscle in between. She'd take any relief at this point. Her shallow breaths became steadier and grew stronger as the ministration continued until finally the resemblance of normality returned to her intake of oxygen. Caring hands tilted her back into the depths of lumpy mattress before a warm, itchy blanket was spread over skin.

"Rest up, girl." Grandma tucked her in tightly, eyes never quite reaching her granddaughters face as she fussed long strands of dark hair behind flat ears. "Try to forget it." She sounded like a woman with deeper experience than the wisdom of age.

This was going to be a hard night. Roll to her left; lay against the main damage of ribs. Roll to her right; lay against a broken arm. All she could do was lay flat on her back, lumps and prodding extrusions from the mattress jabbing into the soft tender flesh of her back. Despite all that, the mingling aroma of elfroot and mutual overwhelming of fatigue took her into a dreamless sleep before she could even fully close her eyes. If she had been able to think about it, her grandma had probably drugged her.

* * *

><p>Fenris awoke as sunlight drifted in through cracks in his ceiling. A nesting bird nuzzled into the depths of his over fluffed feathers, the heat trapped there of great resistance against the icy chill of the morning. The previous night had been cold but at least he had a nice home out of the elements and tucked between ceiling beams and an unused wardrobe. The only other occupant of the space a white haired elf that paid him no mind.<p>

Fenris watched the dawn light beams with a groggy interest, hair hanging loosely over his eyes as he matched the dance of dust between lights with the sway of his pupils. Birds chattered somewhere outside, calling for lovers, mothers and warning of territorial boundaries. The nesting bird, his roommate, fluttered past his gaze out through the ceiling and to the outside world. The beat of wings, soft yet strong pulled him from his reverie with a resounding exhale.

He rolled, prying his arm loose from the body that lay cuddled against him. Saemus had apparently run again and found his feet this time taking him to an elf's bed after a long night of wine tasting. The added warmth from the second body had been a happy distraction from the icy breeze throughout the night but Fenris could not stop his internal desire to be left alone. Why had he been so weak to allow the young man entrance? He wasn't that lonely, was he? A flash of images flooded his vision; the ghosting of dark prickles rubbing rough against his cheek before he shook the thoughts of Hawke aside. That was a nowhere path.

Fenris hopped down, with the grace and silence of a snow leopard, to the cold tiled floor beneath his bed. His clothing lay in a disheveled pile, which he gratefully grabbed hold of and began dressing. There was a groan behind him as hands sort out another, a body shifting into the warm patch left behind until realization came full force with a jolt.

"Fenris?" Saemus called out to the air, bolt up right and cuddling a threadbare blanket to his torso.

"I am here." Fenris's low rumbles travelled deliberately against stonewalls and rebounded with an eerie echo.

"I was not sure if I were dreaming." He continued, eyes drifting over the naked flesh of a well-toned warrior. A pout reaching his pursed lips as Fenris slipped into his charcoal shirt. "Last night. Maker…"

"Forgive me if I do not wish to dally but I have business to attend to." Fenris continued to furrow his concentration to the tightening of armour. "I assume you can find your own way out."

"Fenris…?" Saemus seemed puzzled, was the elf always this distant?

"I should thank you." He paused mid-stride towards the door. "Last night was a welcome distraction."

Saemus gawked, blankness in his stare as green orbs watched him with a fierce intensity. There was a level of dismissal, something seeking the younger man to understand the facts of their relationship quickly without further words needed. This was not a man with enough time or heart for another to share his space. Saemus finally blinked, his chin tittering downward to shield his gaze from further embarrassment. Had he been used? Distraught from Ashaad's death, murder and mayhem on every waking dream and those strong tattooed arms he had seeked comfort in pushing him away when the morning came.

Fenris nodded more to himself than the other man as reality sunk its teeth into the pulsing vein. He would not find the viscount's son here when he returned and that suited him just fine.

The ex-slave steadied his great sword to his back and stormed away like a man with too many burdens searching him out. Eyes hidden beneath curtains of white as he greeted the morning air with an outtake of hot steamy breath. Such a chill and so close to summer; some wicked prophecy lay in wait no doubt. With the shake of his head he padded barefoot through Hightown with a destination in mind. He had given his word, whatever that counted for, to a woman he was indebted too. There are some rules we make for ourselves that we cannot break, even if it is only to prove we are not quite the monsters we believe ourselves to be. That was somewhat his reasoning; he hoped.

Jogging down the Alienage staircase to the courtyard below, elves were on the move with the occasional glance of disbelief to share. He was a stranger among his own species, not that he counted himself truly as one of them. Perhaps that was the reason for the distance between his kin. A creation of synthetic origins.

He knew where he was headed at least, a worn door straight ahead infested with woodworm. He tapped a rhythm against the wood, his sharp gauntlets supplying a further dull thudding to the orchestration and waited. A shuffle, an exclamation followed by the scrape and squeal of a door pulled too.

"You're late, bring it in." A voice called from the depths of its lair, having unbolted the door then moved away back to whatever mysteries were occurring within.

Fenris scowled, well scowled more seriously, pinching the skin between his eyes until numb and needled. He was expected but so was someone else? Misunderstandings aside he coasted the door inward and slipped inside relishing the heat from the fire. An old elf woman tended to a large pot over the hearth and pointedly stirred its contents with a thick wooden stick.

"I am here for Aeron." He spoke up quickly, arms folded and checking his soles for pebbles.

"Oh?" Grandma stiffened at the strange voice, curving her neck until white hair greeted her eyes. "It's you. You never did come for dinner."

"No." He seemed torn for a moment, eyes shifting from left to right. "I apologize." He added as if he had ever had intention to attend such a meal.

"Ohhhmmm." It was a strange sort of clearing of ones throat that made him feel very uncomfortable at the scrutiny it held until finally she returned to her pot prodding. "She's in bed. Under the weather."

"I am not needed then." He backed towards the door. "I will return tomorrow."

"Hah. Whatever both your plans are it will have to wait at least a month."

"Why?" He halted.

"Girl's got her arm broke." Grandma paused her stirring as the pad of feet on wood slapped and creaked into a long hallway. "Second door!" She called out to direct him and readied a bag of clothing for the heated pot.

Fenris pawed over the door handle to the second room, entering swiftly and creaking the door shut behind him. The room was small and bare. A shelf against the right side wall housing a collection of mangled books and keepsakes, armour and weapons stored neatly below. A small chest, adorned with an unlit candle, was the only other object in the room braced up against the most deformed bed he had ever seen. Wonders why she did not just sleep on a bed roll on the ground.

Sucking in a breath he padded closer to the sleeping form tucked under thick woolen blankets. Her head was lulled towards the wall, splotches of dark hair roaming freely over her face but he could still distinguish the swollen bruising around her eyes and nose. The sound of her breathing was relaxed from slumber but irregular from the discomfort of raising her chest.

"Aeron?" He knelt down on one knee; a hand hovering uncertainly inches from her face. "Aeron, wake up?" He parted hair to uncover her, a hum of disapproval reaching his ears as she began to stir.

"Five more minutes grandma." She muttered, trying to roll over onto her side but gasping a slur of curses instead.

There was an awkward tangle of arms as he helped right her, lifting the unfortunate pressure she had placed on her broken arm away and to his grip. The blankets slipped, piling into her lap as she leaned into his support, the bandages around her ribs maintaining at least some of her dignity. He growled a low sound at the continuation of scratches and bruises he saw riddled over her exposed areas; mingled with older scars.

"Who did this to you?" The depths of his tone threatened retribution of the deadliest kind.

"I don't know." She muttered, head now buried into the plumes on his shoulder and blinking out the drugged hum reverberating in her head. "Shit grandma…" Whatever the old bat had used was really playing with her head. Opium of some sort perhaps. "What are you doing here?"

"Training." He spat, still furiously waiting for a physical target to find. "You wanted my help."

"Right…" She was starting to feel heavy and light at once as sleep tried to take her again.

"I am taking you to a healer."

"Mmhmm."

"Where are your clothes?"

"Hmmm… trunk."

Fenris grimaced as he felt a line of hot drool skirt against the bend between neck and shoulder. Her breathing was at that sleeping pace again and he was stuck trying to balance the woman's dead weight against him whilst fumbling with the chest to his right. Thankfully it was not locked, that would have made things rather trickier and at least he did not have to worry too much about picking something she'd hate. Dark tunic, dark tunic, dark tunic, orelisan dress? Dark tunic it was.

He managed to rouse her again; long enough to gain her assistance with pulling the tunic over her head and threading damaged limbs carefully through the arms. Leggings were already on beneath the covers so there was at least some awkwardness they could do without.

As she slipped back into unconsciousness, he lifted her up against his chest allowing her head to lull back into the comfort of his feathered shoulder and eased her out of the room. Her grandma seemed curious of the apparent kidnapping taking place but soon shrugged her shoulders at his explanation of a healer friend. He was a nice elf-man. Maybe they could convince him to take Aeron in time for a spring wedding next year. And even if the children weren't pointy eared at least they'd have a chance of looking tanned and handsome.

He was lucky she was such a small thing, not much more heavier than an elf-woman but with the addition of warrior muscle weight. He was also pretty strong himself, lugging around such a cumbersome weapon on a daily basis. It made the long journey into Darktown easier on his stamina having to carry her sleeping form the entire way and the added incentive of ire fuelled him further. She really did need some extra training if this was how badly she was going to get beat.

Reaching Anders clinic, Fenris ignored his own dislike of the apostate and brazenly entered the welcoming doors; lanterns lit despite the trickle of morning light. The space was quiet, what looked to be a couple of smelter workers snoozing off whatever treatment they had received on corner cots. The healer himself was at the other end of the room enjoying tea and breakfast with a blond woman facing the wrong way.

"Mage!" Fenris growled out a warning for the other man to pay him attention immediately.

Anders paused his finger food flirting long enough to roll his eyes at the elf's booming voice and apologize to his guest. She seemed none to fussed and finished her tea in quick fashion; letting him off the hook.

"What is it?" Anders humped out of his chair, milling closer until he got a proper look at the scene. As he noticed the slumped form in the elf's arms that was enough to spur him into a quicker pace. "What happened?" He indicated his rival to carry the patient further in and lay her on his table for examination.

"She was attacked."

"Obviously." Anders rolled his eyes, checking the limp body over by sight first before groaning as he ascertained the patient's identity. The sick and needy were the sick and needy right? And he a healer. Justice at least agreed on principle. "Looks like someone has already taken care of her injuries, at least superficially."

"Her grandmother I assume." Fenris frowned, feeling a good brooding session coming on.

There was a fluttering of sound to the elf's right that caught his attention in an instant. The blond woman having wandered to his side for a closer inspection. He eyed her, a protective rage gleaming his gaze as she gave a thoughtful murmur.

"One of my employees." Lyn tilted her head cataloguing damage with a sigh. "I won't expect her in today I take it. Oh well, I'll see you tomorrow night, Anders." She leaned in, a kiss brushing the healer's cheek as he concentrated.

"Yes, whatever you want." Anders was preoccupied, not really sure on what he was answering as his hands roamed over injury and under clothing. He hadn't even noticed that she'd left as he peeled back the lids of Aeron's eyes for a closer inspection. "She's high!" He snorted, gaze turning to Fenris for answers the elf was not equipped with. "I need you too leave."

"Why?" Fenris leaned closer; suspicion oozing from every pore.

"Because I need to undress her and you put me off my work with all that glaring."

"I… will be outside then." He stiffened then downgraded in tension before stalking out of the clinic. Normally he enjoyed intimidating the abomination but that wasn't worth a woman's life.

Anders slumped with relief as the elf cleared the room, leaning closer to the sleeping woman with a thumbing of her cheek.

"Can you hear me?" He asked, a disorientated noise his only reply. "I'm going to heal you now. Try to remain still."

There was no response this time, not that he expected much from her in this state. He'd make sure to ask her later what she'd taken to get so wasted but it was of little threat now; in fact it was working in their favour. Justice was eager for them to begin, his thoughts filled with questions he yearned to answer but first the healer's duty.

Anders moved away to a shelf of flasks and vials, selecting a mixture of colours before returning and placing each on the edge of the examination table. She barely moved, the stuttering rise and fall of her chest the only indication she still lived. He would find broken ribs no doubt but first he would start with something easy.

He began by sliding his fingers downward on either side of her nose checking for breaks. Finding none he pulled away, hands igniting in a blue glow as he eased the swelling bruises across her face into a distant yellow. Next the arm, already bandaged and held straight with sticks, his job was made a lot easier. Sensing the bones through a pulse of magic he found a clean break aligned and ready to mend. Bones were trickier than flesh but he'd had a great deal of practice from his time with the wardens. With a methodic precision, the healer bombarded the break with a concentration of energy until it eagerly soaked in the spell and knitted strong and tight. Aeron groaned at this point, the sensation uncomfortable to say the least and forcing the healer to hold her shoulders down with a soothing shush.

As she quieted again, Anders reached for a small tube of lyrium balanced on the table and drank down the contents. Justice shuddered at the intake, rejoicing in the song that flooded through veins and reminded him of the fade. Fun for the spirit, that inhabited his body but a necessity for the healer, if he was going to have to continue mending bones.

Gently lifting his patient's tunic up to her neck, he looked over the mismatch of scratches and bruises beneath. A series of older scars catching his attention for a moment as he ran his finger up them until the binding around her ribs prevented the trail. Again the bandaging was a big help and it looked as if the flesh wounds had been well cleaned and tended to already. He would not waste his time re-applying more salves. Her grandmother obviously knew what she was doing when it came to dressing wounds.

His attention finally settled on the wonky looking side of her ribcage, his hand pressing firmly against the binding as fingers tapped along the line of ribs sensing out problems. A crack here, a break there in various places; most of which would be simple to fix. One rib, however, appeared to have caved inwards at a dangerous angle and with a deeper search he could feel the way the edge scraped against her lung. This was going to take some time, he figured, especially if she started squirming.

With a renewed sense of professionalism, and eagerness on Justice's part, Anders cracked his knuckles and prepared himself to deliver the best healing of his patient's life.

Fenris, on the other hand, was moping outside the clinic. He'd started by leaning against the outside wall but after a time moved to stare out at the ocean below Darktown. There wasn't much to see there, a few dead bodies and various junk floating out with the tide. By the time he'd taken to moping on the stairs the sun was reaching its apex in the sky. The warmth it brought to the chilled day was certainly welcome to his freezing toes but it also brought with it the reminder of lunchtime. He was hungry.

By the time Anders was done with her ribs he was sweaty and exhausted; slumping into a stool he'd dragged over. Aeron, seemingly unaware of anything except the absence of discomfort rolled onto her side for better coziness. Anders snorted at the action, finding it somewhat amusing before tugging her back onto her rear, uncapping a green coloured flask and wafting the rising mist under the woman's nose.

She shot awake, hissing and choking at the stench and shoved the bottle away. It took her several moments to reorganize her various cerebral processes into a comprehensible order but one thought arrived quicker than the rest.

"Get the fuck away from me!" She spat at the nonplused healer. He had expected as much.

"A thank you would of sufficed." He ignored her glaring as it mingled with confusion and offered her the final flask on the table. The red kind. "Drink this, it will help with anything I missed."

Her glare softened into a frown before developing into a scowl and sniffed dryly at the proffered bottle. Memories were returning, a cold night, an attack, a rescuer, grandma and elfroot then finally Fenris.

"You healed me." It was a statement in answer of another question and missing the final element of 'this time'.

"Drink it." He shook the healing potion under her nose again until she reluctantly obeyed.

There was a hesitation in the air, Aeron shifting her legs over the edge of the table to lift her weight on an elbow to a sitting position. Much like the position she had been in the first time he'd got her on his table. This time however, he made no move to touch her; which was a great relief. She steadied the flask to her lips and tipped the contents testing against her tongue before swallowing the bitter substance down. The effects were almost instant, the soreness of her body retreating and taking that residual fogging high along with it.

Anders stood, his eyes a mixture of gold and blue as he cupped her chin in his smooth hands; softened by years of coating balm and oils. He was watching her with a curiosity not healer related but she did not flinch away from it this time.

"I would call you a demon if I had not already felt inside you." He finally spoke, ending the excruciating silence. She thought of looking away but felt compelled to maintain eye contact. A sense of relief filled her lungs that he quickly picked up upon, thumbing the length of her cheeks to meet the edges of her eyes. "Where did you get eyes like these?"

"I…" She shook her head out of his reach and leaned back in obvious discomfort of the question.


	17. The beginning of an ocean storm

**Chapter 17: The beginning of an ocean storm**

Aeron sat under a cherry tree, back braced against the trunk as she daydreamed at the ripening fruit above her. Fenris was fencing with Juliannah on the grass in front of her, the mansion's gardens meticulously kempt and blooming with various summer colours. The squishy creampuff had taken better to the pretty elf instructor, as Aeron had expected she would, and was starting to slowly but surely develop mediocre skill with a blade.

Fenris's help had been most welcome over the last few weeks, her body even now tender and sore in places despite the majority being healed through magic. It was an uncomfortable feeling, finding one's self at times unable to continue practice with a chubby novice. Fenris on the other hand seemed to find the whole proceedings relaxing. His mind was focused on the mundane repetition of movements, the exercise familiar and reassuring in certainty; though he never even so much as broke into a sweat during these lessons.

Juliannah's girlish giggling filled the space around them as the clatter of blades paused. On the edge of her mind Aeron could hear the sounds of the pair conversing, Juliannah excited and Fenris growling out a tirade of warning despite the impressed note to his tone.

"Did you see it, Aeron?" Juliannah twirled her short sword around her head in victory, causing Fenris to take a step back or get a well-needed haircut. "I got him!"

"I would hardly get excited about grazing a hand." Fenris stared at the back of his hand with a scrutiny reserved for polishing silver.

"Getting past your defenses, is a victory worth celebrating." Aeron grimaced as a torrent of images flooded the forefront of her mind. It wasn't only Juliannah to get a schooling with a blade from the white haired devil.

"That is the end for today."

"But I want to try again." Juliannah pouted. "One more time. Please?"

"No." Fenris stated with the shake of his head, Juliannah knowing better than to argue with him by now. He was stubborn.

Aeron stifled to hide a snort of amusement at the girl's disappointed beginning of a whine and managed to conceal the escaping sound by mingling it with her groan at standing. She'd put pressure on the right arm again, bracing herself against the tree trunk and that now old break was still as grumblesome as ever. It wasn't so much that it hurt, it was just… aching. Maybe it was psychological.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Fenris."

"Perhaps." Fenris began walking very fast indeed towards the back gate, eager to get away from his flirtatious pupil.

"Why does he always say 'perhaps' and then come anyway?" Juliannah puzzled. "Is he trying to be mysterious?"

"Maybe." Aeron lied with a shrug. It wasn't something her charge would understand if she tried to explain it anyway; an escaped slave that doesn't know where he'll be running too tomorrow.

"Humph." She dug the tip of her shoe into the ground unearthing a little grass. "Well I suppose it doesn't matter. I'm getting pretty good aren't I?" She grinned, giddy and dangerous with a weapon in hand. "If I get good enough to beat Fenris, do you think mother will let me go out alone?"

"Why would you need to go out alone?"

"Oh I don't know." Juliannah twirled on her toes, keeping her blushing face out of sight from her guard. "Just to walk and stuff."

"Perhaps, messere." Aeron muted her opinions. It wasn't her place to tell the girl to keep away from certain men anyway.

"I am so hungry." Juliannah moaned, shoulders slumping as she dragged her sword and feet across the ground back towards the house. "I'll see you tomorrow Aeron."

"Yes, messere."

Aeron sighed with relief as she was finally released from duty and did a little shoulder slumping trek of her own out of the back gate. Training mummy's little puff pastry was certainly a welcome change from misdirecting her from danger and men but still took the steam out of her kettle. Why was she thinking about kettles? A warm bath would be nice, maybe a spot of tea as well. No it was too hot for tea.

"There you are." Fenris rumbled, breaking her line of thinking.

"This isn't where you force me to drink wine again is it?" Aeron frowned at the prospect, watching the way he tried to hide his smirk between curtains of hair and the tilt of chin to chest.

"I am determined to find one you like." He pushed away from the wall he was resting against with a foot, arms still folded in previous brooding as he began the short walk to his own mansion. "There are still many more bottles in the cellar we have not tried, yet."

"Are you sure there isn't any ale or even mead down there?"

"There is not. But you are welcome to check again."

"Why bother?" She shrugged. "You'll never take the hint and slip some in."

"Indeed." He pushed the door open to his 'home' and disappeared down a side passage leaving Aeron to find her own way.

The mansion was as horrible and decrepit as always, though she had only began visiting it the past week and a half since he had first invited her over. It was a curiosity she had been eager to itch for some time, see the beast's lair and touch his things. Not that he really had many things; what a disappointment that part had been.

Making her way upstairs she casually entered the large room the elf occupied, the fire cold but the remnants of evening sunlight still cascading in through the ceiling bringing with it a little warmth. The place was tidy, in the manner of someone who has little to display, but the furniture askew. She wondered how he could live with such alarming angles but perhaps it was an adequate description of his inner workings. Out of alignment with the norm.

Collapsing into the chair, back to the door, she began tapping out a rhythm with blunt nails on the varnished table. Her thoughts were wandering to places best left undiscovered, so much so she did not hear the patter of feet behind her until it was too late.

"I found this one hidden away in a corner." Fenris blew on the dusty bottle several times before giving up with a frown and passing the dirty bottle over to his companion. "It looks expensive."

"Why are the filthy ones always more expensive?" Aeron peeled the grime away from the label enough to read the words aloud. "Campolongo di tor- the labels all worn. I think it's Antivan." She passed the wine back to the now sitting elf.

"Here's hoping the Antivans know how to make a good wine." He set about uncorking the bottle with a loud 'plunk'. "Forgive me but-"

"You have no glasses, I know." She rolled her eyes as he drank from the bottle with an approving hum before passing it over. "What a heartless prick your Danarius is and so cruel to leave you with a cellar full of wine but no glasses."

"Ha." He not so much laughed but more stated the sound as if he were amused by the premise of the joke but not the joke itself. "His depravity runs deeper than merely withholding cups."

"You could go out and buy some."

"I do not see a point in such investment." He shifted uncomfortably in his chair indicating with slender fingers for her to drink.

"This is why you are ordinarily drunk. Nothing to drink water from." She waved him off, her ears finally greeted with a genuine but short-lived chuckle from the man. With an intake of air, steeling her resolve, she steadied the head of the bottle to her lips and tilted the contents into the depths of her mouth. "Hmmm." She hummed as the rest of the liquid sloshed back to the bottom of the bottle and the taste of the captured fluid massaged her tongue. "Sort of… raisony."

"And?"

"Sweet and… taste like some old wood has been swimming in the bottle." She shrugged, pushing the wine onto the table.

"I like it." He snatched the bottle up with a disapproving air. "You can try and drink water without a cup if you prefer."

"I thought Danarius was suppose to be the cruel son of a bitch."

"I am nothing like him!"

"Never said you were." Aeron leaned back in her chair with a resigned frown. "You're so much more fun when you're completely smashed."

Fenris went silent for a while, taking several long swigs of the wine until the bottle was half empty. Aeron was amused by how quickly the alcoholic elf's cheeks could inhabit a budding rosy glow. He was thinking, a dangerous pass time for him especially as it tended to make him talk crazy or act more psychotic than usual. She was under the impression the ex-slave was a bottle of wine less, every day, from going on a murderous rampage. At least he'd have to start in Hightown so the nobles would be hacked first while the common folk had time to flee.

"You have still not spoken to Carver."

"It's not as easy as just walking up to his door and chatting about the weather."

"Coward."

"Yeah well, at least I'm not hiding in the bottom of a bottle pretending the rotting corpses in my entry aren't there."

"No, but you do hide other things well."

"What's that suppose to mean?"

"Why don't you tell me?"

"About what?"

"I don't know. Blood mages perhaps?"

"Anders… You bastard. Is that," she indicated them and the wine with a swing of a hand, "what this is all about? Trying to find a wine I'll drink enough of to loosen my lips? I can't believe you're actually working with him. I thought you hated that abomination!"

"You misunderstand."

"No I don't think I do." She was up on her feet, the desire to club him over the head with his antivan wine gracing her list of top ten desires for a fraction of a second. "The pair of you are complete fucking bastards. And you know what? I hope Danarius does come and take you back and some angry Creators be damned Templars drag your friend to the Circle too."

"Are you quite finished?"

"No! I have one more thing to add." She paused for a breathing break. "Fuck. You."

Without giving him the chance to respond she stormed out of his room, making sure to slam the door behind her and skittered down the steps towards the exit. She was seething, livid and hurt all at once with no way of releasing the building tirade of emotions bubbling up inside her. How had she been so stupid to fall for it again? Good company without selfish desire, as if such a thing could exist. She should have known something was amiss those three weeks ago in Anders clinic. It had been too perfect, the scene too orchestrated.

_"I…" She shook her head out of his reach and leaned back in obvious discomfort of the question._

"_It's all right." Anders soothed guiding a tentative hand out towards her, lowering its weight carefully onto her shoulder in case he might spook her into flight. "I am a healer, I only want to help. You can tell me."_

"_I… I don't know. There was so much blood. Everywhere, all over me, inside me, on the walls. I think one of them was a mage but…" Why was she telling him this? There was a warmth, a tingling sensation spreading through her body beginning at the point where his hand touched her shoulder. Her eyes hardened with a renewed determination, a second wind budding from the area around her heart as her hand darted up and slapped his away. "I thank you for your assistance healer." Her voice was cold, icy now as he took a step back out of surprise, giving her room to escape around him. "But you will not touch me again."_

_She started to walk around the table, heading for the door as a static wash in the air, followed by a bright blue light, caught her attention just in time to find the cause slamming her up against the side of a support column. She gasped in surprise as her back made contact with the unyielding surface, eyes bulging to accommodate the mixture of fear and wonder at the sight before her. This was not a usual mage trick, this things aura felt wrong, buzzed in the back of her skull and demanded attention._

"_You will tell me everything you know, demon." Justice's voice boomed, deep and unforgiving like the changes of time. She was helpless to it, reduced to the fright of a child and debating whether pissing her pants was a viable option. "I will have my answers and then justice will be determined."_

"_Abomination!" Fenris ground out from the doorway, his lengthened strides predatory and dangerous as he came closer drawing his blade._

So lost in memory she hadn't even realized how far she had walked, the hanged man coming into view as she jogged the stairs up from the Lowtown market. Maybe that mage, that abomination was in there right now with Hawke. It would be so easy to have it out with him, demand some answers, rat his abomination status out. No, she was going to hit him. She was going to hit him a lot.

Slamming the door open she entered with all the fury of a dragon only to find her wings stunted by the epic crowd of drunks pushing her left and right like a rag doll. It was a sea of liveliness in the tavern, one that made it more and more difficult to remain angry while trying to stop from falling flat on your face. As if the crowd knew where she wanted to go the shoving slipstream of movement carried her towards the occupied table by the fire. She would have erected with a new spur of fury at the mismatched table of Hawke's crew if the healer had been with them but he wasn't. She just couldn't catch a break could she?

"Look Carver it's your girl friend." Isabela crooned over her whiskey glass, currently embraced on Hawke's lap and helping him with his hand of cards.

"She's not my…" Carver's body tensed, eyes refusing to leave the distraction of his ale. "What do you want?"

"Carver…" She breathed his name, her heart melting into an imaginary stewing pot at the sight of him. What had she come here for again? "Can we talk?"

"What about?"

"Your brother is useless." Isabela groaned as Garrett enjoyed the way the pirate shifted on his lap, teasing something from out of her cleavage and threw it at the younger Hawke. "Use that key, take my room and for all our sakes give her a bloody good seeing to." She winked at the pair as they blushed out of the line of sniggering going around the table.

"That's very kind of you but I don-" Carver was halted from flinging the key back at the pirate by spritely fingers snatching the object from his grip. "What are you-" His eyes widened as Aeron grabbed him by the collar and dragged him up and out of his seat. He was captured and not exactly fighting the pulling lead up the stairs to Isabela's room.

"Good girl." The pirate downed her drink and leaned forward to refill the glass.

"Hopefully Junior will stop all that sad moping now." Varric mused. "It's not a healthy pastime."

"I wonder what they are going to talk about?" Merrill daydreamed, everyone around her going quiet rather than answering such an obvious curiosity.

"Should make it easier to tell him he's not going on the expedition tomorrow." Garrett sighed; knowing all too well no amount of sex was going to dissuade the youth from having a tantrum. Maybe they could sneak off while Carver was distracted.

* * *

><p>"I wish you would be a little more understanding." Leandra sighed, steaming cup of tea braced between her fingers. "Your brother did what was best for you. What if you had both gone down there and neither come back? How do you think I would feel? Losing all of my children?"<p>

"Mother…" Carver was torn between fury and sympathy.

"Don't you "mother" me with that tone." Leandra was on her feet, tears close to shedding at the utter futility of motherhood. It seemed there was no way to protect her boys. "Garrett was right to leave you behind."

"Right for you, mother." His fist collided with the table making the tea service rattle. "I am a grown man. I can make my own decisions. The both of you cannot keep treating me like a child."

"You are my child!" She cried in exacerbation before turning her attention elsewhere. "What is done is done, we cannot change it now. I am going to bed."

"Right." Carver continued to stare at the swirling contents of his cup, ignoring the sighing departure of his mother.

This scenario, this final straw plagued his mind like a field of locusts for weeks. Left behind again. Denied. He wasn't even walking in Garrett's shadow anymore; he was completely overlooked and tossed aside like sewage. How had his life come to this? Stunted at every chance, forced to play the sacrificial pawn in a never-ending game of chess.

"What's wrong?" Aeron stopped him, hands squeezing his naked shoulders as he refused to give her eye contact.

He braced his hands against the headboard of the bed, body clouded with sweat as he hovered above her. Their breath mingled, hard and ragged from the excursion they had been in the middle of before she had paused him. He said nothing at first, his thoughts too jumbled to give a solid name. With a guttural groan he buried his head in the pillow beside her, leaning more of his weight on top of her body as hands weaved their way around his waist.

Aeron frowned; it didn't matter how much time passed, how much time they spent together, he simply would not distract from this upset. Well, call it by it's real name; betrayal. Her heart fluttered painfully at the hurt this caused him. Maybe she was falling in love with him, or maybe it was just his weight trapped against her rib cage.

Feeling a trail of wet kisses, down the length of his neck and around the curve of his shoulder, Carver lifted his head craning an apologetic kiss to her forehead. He felt guilty now, ruining their evening with thoughts of his brother. Really not something you were supposed to be thinking about when in the arms of a beautiful and very naked woman. He rolled to the side, freeing her beneath him and sighed onto his back. She watched the way he stared at the ceiling for a moment before following his path and curving her body around his waist.

"Your brother again?" She asked, legs twirling with his as she pulled the covers over them for warmth.

"I'm sorry." His fingers slipped into the length of her loose hair, guiding her cheek to rest against the nook between his arm and chest. "I just… I can't stop thinking about it. The longer this goes on, me alone minding mother, the more furious I get."

"I wish there was something I could do, I really do Carver but…"

"But it's my problem not yours."

"Ouch."

"I didn't mean it like that."

"I know." She tapped him on the nose with a reprimanding finger making him chuckle at the chastisement.

"I suppose I can see one good reason my brother had for leaving me behind." Carver sighed feeling like the realization was some sort of defeat. "Gamlen would probably have sold mother into indentured servitude to pay off his debts while we were gone."

"Good thing you're here to keep your uncle in line then." Aeron smiled.

"After this is over, when Garrett gets back from the expedition, things cannot stay the same as they once were."

"I agree. If you get anymore miserable you'll make the bed cold."

"Old wives tale." Carver waved off the jab. "I am Carver Hawke and never again will your bed be cold!"

"That's quite a declaration!" She laughed, Carver feigning the wounding of his pride at her amusement long enough to receive a spray of repentant kisses. "Have you thought more about my previous suggestion?"

"The Templar Order?" He suddenly became flustered at the change of topic. "A little."

"And?"

"I was reading some of my father's old letters. You know a Templar helped him escape the circle so he could run away with mother." He sighed, palming his hair and tugging a little at the roots. "They even named me after the man. Ser Carver. If father… could respect a Templar then maybe I should follow the path of my namesake."

"But?" She could hear the hesitation even if he spoke determined words.

"But…" He grew suddenly quiet, his eyes darting back and forth as he sort out his next words carefully. "I asked Aveline some questions about her husband, Wesley. He was a Templar in Fereldan but died in Lothering when the darkspawn attacked. She told me… Maker Aeron."

"What is it?" She sat up, a worried frown surfacing at his discomfort.

"There are rules against Templar relationships. Only a full Knight under dispensation can pursue and marry."

"Marry? Creators Carver that's not at the forefront of my plans."

"No but, in the future, maybe." He was sitting up now too, having the room to do so as she edged closer away from him. "It would be five, ten years before I would even be eligible for a Knighthood."

"So?"

"So, I don't think it would be fair on you, to keep you trapped waiting for me to get a Knighthood."

"Wait, are you breaking up with me?" She was off the bed now.

"No! I…" He lunged forward, capturing her hand in his to stop her from bolting. Maker did she look angry and confused. "We would have to be a secret."

There was a loud 'thwack' sound as her freehand collided with his cheek. He looked away at the corner of the room, where the hit had turned him to face and swallowed back his rage.

"I am not some closet mistress!" Aeron spat, ripping her hand out of his grip.

"It's always going to be this way with you isn't it?" He growled low and dangerous, eyes fixed staring at the corner as he bit down on his lip.

"Probably!" She began shuffling into her clothing and snatching up the rest of her things from the floor.

"I'm not chasing after you if you leave."

"Good! Enjoy your Knighthood. Hope you find a Creators be damned whore to fill the lonely nights in secret." Aeron muffled the last part through a stifled sob and slammed the rented room door behind her.


	18. Castles made of sand

**Chapter 18: Castles made of sand**

It was cold in that cell; dark, damp and riddled with rats. He was too far below ground to see sunlight, there were no windows anyway just stone, slime covered walls and unforgiving steel bars. Torches lit the far end of a shadowed corridor beyond those prison bars, the light barely cutting a taste from the overwhelming darkness.

There was a screech of sound, rustle of movement under the hay that lined the cell floor. He paid it little mind, desperate though rats were he was more than their match and they knew it.

He sat there upon the floor, tensing and breaking the resolve of stems of dried grass between his fingers. It had been hours since his capture, new bruises forming that would soon fade with time. He had plenty of time. With a huff of amused sound he paused his murder of hay to trace a soil-covered finger over a fresh scar on his shoulder. The memory of a girl he once helped flashed before his eyes, concussed and beaten on the ground but still unwilling to give up the fight. He'd dealt with the guardsmen attacking her but she had not known, stabbing him in the shoulder with a concealed knife when he leaned down to help.

"Clever girl." He muttered to himself, a new sound distracting him from his situation.

Shoes, sturdy and thick soled but finely made tapped out a slow methodical rhythm on stone. It came closer and closer with a full and reverberating 'tap', 'tap', 'tap'. Another followed the soft but deadly sound; a war drum of thudding boots just behind the first. He did not bother to look up as the pair approached his cage. Their intentions each clear.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Another girl child like you."

"I am not a girl anymore." Lyn filtered through a ring of keys before plucking the largest free from the rest. "Leave us."

"But-"

"Carlos, I can handle a chained up prisoner."

"Yes, my lady." Carlos, the larger than life brute of a man pouted and sniffed the air as he turned on his heels like a good lap dog dismissed from his masters presence.

As he reached the bottom of the stairs leading from the basement back to the mansion proper he could hear the turning of an old un-oiled lock and jingle of chains when the captured stood. What was his mistress thinking? Alone with Byron's right hand man chained or not. Thorn was a beast when he fought, Carlos could respect that at least but he was still a stupid bastard that worked for a sniveling, conniving prick.

He leaned against the tiled wall of the mansion. The sun shining through the stain glass windows across the top front of the lobby wall. A cascading pool of colours danced across the floor and stairs that lead further into the mansion proper. A skipping young woman danced through those beams of colour down the impressive staircase, long dirty blond hair trailing behind her. The younger miss was certainly growing up nicely, not quite her mother's standards but certainly worth looking at… from a far. He wasn't that stupid to pursue the boss's daughter; Lyn would have his manhood displayed in her study like a hunt trophy. Besides, there were other things to look at. He grinned at a terrified looking elf woman that quickly skittered away.

"Carlos…" Lyn distracted the goliath from his perusing. "I want you to escort our 'guest' from the premises unharmed. Discreetly."

"You're letting him go? But boss!" Carlos growled. "He is a spy!"

"He saw nothing, you caught him before he even got past the grounds and into the building." She shrugged him off. "I am not giving Byron a reason to retaliate."

"No, you never do."

There was a gagging sound as Lyn's hands shot up, wrapping around the brutes thick neck and squeezing in just the right pressure points to make his eyes bulge. He dropped obediently to his knees, arms stiff against his sides as he now met her at eyes level.

"You might be strong as an ox, Carlos, but you have no fucking brain." Lyn hissed through clenched teeth, trying to keep the little altercation going on as quiet as possible with Juliannah across the way from them. Her baby didn't need to see this. "What do you think would happen if Byron went full house on us? It would be war not only in Kirkwall but also throughout the Free marches. His influence is not just contained here and neither is mine. We both have friends. Friends that are enemies to the other. And where do you think Byron would start his little rebellion? My contacts? My ships? My men? Or do you think he would go after my weakest asset?" She shifted his neck to make him face her daughter busily picking out arrangements of flowers. "You do as your told and escort Thorn out, unharmed, or by Andraste herself I will cut you down as if you'd killed my daughter yourself."

Carlos gasped for air as he was released, Lyn turning her back on him and walking away. He spluttered for a moment, phlegm catching in his throat as he heaved in gulps of oxygen. The blue and red in his cheeks quickly faded back to the golden tan of healthiness though the edges of shocked white and fearful dark circles played about his eyes. There was a weight, light and merciful on his shoulder that caught his attention.

"Oh my, are you all right?" Juliannah chewed her lip in worry. "Should I get a doctor?"

"No, my lady." Carlos looked away; even on his knees he was getting an eyeful of the girls freely displayed cleavage. "I just swallowed a fly."

"Ewwww." She pulled a disgusted face. "That's horrible. What did it taste like?"

"Uh…" Carlos scratched the back of his head, getting back to his feet in the process of thinking up some fly tasting story. "Like chicken, miss." He finally shrugged.

"Chicken, hmmm." She thought about this before smiling and tucking a carnation she had been fiddling with into the man's armour. "As tasty as chicken is I wouldn't swallow another one."

"Yes, my lady." He gave the flower poking from his chest plate a quizzical look before ignoring its existence. "I must go. Your mother has work for me."

"Yes, of course. Take care." Juliannah skipped off back to her flower arrangements.

He was in trouble with the boss and now her daughter was sticking flowers in his armour. Was suicide an option at this point? It might be less painful than what Lyn would do. He had to man up, straighten that spine and get on with it. He was Carlos! Antivan devil! Capable of ripping a man's head clean from his body. He would survive little girls, flowers and escorting spies unharmed from cells.

* * *

><p>"There, there Daisy." Varric cooed to the shivering elf, currently attached to his arm like a second jacket. "We'll make it out of this tomb alive. Then we'll have us a little fun and kill my brother."<p>

"But Varric, those creatures." Merrill dug her nails deeper into the dwarf's thick attire. "I've never seen anything so horrible in all my travels."

"The demon's pawn, afraid of rock monsters." Anders mocked his fellow mage.

"Well at least I didn't let my demon inside my body."

"I am- he is not a demon!"

"We have more pressing matters to take care of than your two's demon pissing contest!" Hawke was cold, hungry and annoyed all at once. The bags under his eyes were growing darker by the day, but at least the lack of light and eerie glowing red and blue lyrium veins on the wall hid the fact.

"We should not dally." Fenris cut through the squabbling group, pausing to tap a dead rock wraith with his toe. Definitely dead. "I see a tunnel this way."

"Thank the Maker!" Hawke dashed after the long legged elf-man, Bounce trailing at his heels, whining at the stench of evil all around.

The group had been down in the Deeproads for several weeks now. They had fought darkspawn, killed a dragon, been attacked by ginormous spiders and finally trapped in an old dwarven ruin by Varric's older brother, Bartrand. All for an idol made of pure lyrium; was that really all their lives were worth?

With no other choice they had begun trekking deeper into the ancient tomb, searching for a back door but without luck on their side. Three days, dozens of Shades and a handful of angry rock Wraiths now dead at their feet, it was almost worth giving up. The bickering among the group, mainly between Merrill and Anders was perhaps the worst of it all. At least Fenris had decided to keep his opinions to himself for once, perhaps he had reasoned the fact that pissing off the only mutual protection you have was not the best of plans. Whatever his reasoning, Hawke was certainly glad for the elf's presence. The ex-slave was suited to dark damp caves like a mole in a hill. He made a better tunnel tracker than the cowering mabari at least.

"Do you hear that?" Fenris paused at a crossroad of paths.

"Hear what?" Hawke flailed a hand behind him, effectively shushing the grumbling children.

"There is a breeze, air moving in a larger space beyond that point." He pointed out the left tunnel, Bounce trotting up next to him with a confirming sniff. "We should take this route. It may lead to an opening."

"And a way out!" Varric clapped the elf on the back, making him grunt and shift forward at the strength of the little man. "Good job Broody. I would kiss you, but you know, Bianca is watching."

"Enough flirting, lets get out of here." Hawke brushed passed them, Bounce trotting ahead with a renewed excitement at the prospect of sunlight.

Their collective bravado was short lived, however, as the rag-tag band of adventurers erupted into a great chasm. There was a stale, evil stench in the air and the only route forward, over a decrepit looking bridge deeper into that sense of utter wrong. All three mages stifled at the overwhelming aura, Fenris sensing it a split second later with his brooding sixth sense. There was a great whine as Bounce clambered closer to his master; desperate for the protective attention Garrett fussed between his ears. This was not a good place and all knew it. Even Varric had to admit he was feeling the sensation of his grave being danced upon; or perhaps it was just the deep mushrooms he'd eaten earlier.

"I do not like this." Fenris stated the obvious but still tiptoed forward, testing the bridge for safety.

A light gust whipped past, scattering pebbles and mortar with a clattering of sound. Merrill yelped at the sudden cold, clinging firmly to Anders whom bristled with joint dislike and dread. It was dark, it was dangerous and the wind was groaning like a fresh batch of Shades. No wait; there really was a fresh batch of Shades.

"To arms!" Hawke cried, his staff twirling effortlessly in his hand with the sudden glow of an ice spell sent cascading across the stone floor before driving upwards in spiky fashion; effectively blocking the demons for precious few seconds.

The other readied themselves, thankful for the time their fearless leader had given them. Bounce growled and barked threateningly at his master's heel, finally lunging forward as the first Shade hacked its way through the spell of ice and plunged a mouthful of teeth into the demon's midriff. The great cave became a light with wondrous colours, flashes of green, blue and red meddling together in a fantastical display. Three mages and a glowing elf tended to have that effect on any dark place.

As Fenris leapt forward, springing his great sword into a driving blow against his foe a trill howl of pain greeted his ears. The elf's eyes widened at the sound, removing his attention from death dealing long enough to catch a glimpse of a mabari flying past his vision and over the side of the bridge to who knew where. Hawke wailed his sorrow filled fury at the scene, distraught grief catching a hold of his reasoning as a great ball of fire erupted not only from his hands but his entire body. Fenris cried out for the crazy mage to stop, caught like a rabbit in the headlights as the fiery death flew towards him and the mangle of Shades behind. Then it was over; with a whimper and a bang.

"BOUNCE!" Garrett dropped to his knees, tears staining his cheeks and shirt as he beseeched the Maker for a miracle. "NO! NO! NO! NOT BOUNCE!"

"By the stones…" Varric stared; jaw hanging wide as the breath hitched in his throat.

"Oh no." Merrill tittered back several spaces until she reached the dwarf. "That poor dog. I know I said he smelled bad but… and Fenris… oh Varric." She clung to him like a wet cloth on dry skin.

"Hawke…" Anders tried to dissuade the sobbing mass of praying man in front of him. "Hawke!" He tried shaking him only to be answered by more mumbled prayer. "Hawke, we need you. You need to get it together. Bounce and Fenris are gone and there is nothing we can do about it. If we stay here too long then those demons will start coming after us again. We must move forward. We need to get out of here, back to the surface."

"Back to mother…" Garrett slurred through his palms and a bout of hic-ups. "I remember… I remember when … when mother found him as a pup. He pissed all over a Templar's shoes. Mother gave him a good chastising when the Templar tried to drown Bounce in the river. He was such a good dog."

"I know Hawke…" Anders comforted him as best he could.

"And Fenris… Oh Maker… Sweet Andraste…"

"Now, now Hawke." Anders tried to right his leader, overwhelmed yet again by a new round of tears. "Fenris… knew the risks."

"But it was my fault!"

"It was an accident." Anders affirmed. "Listen to me. It was an accident. Even Justice agrees." No he didn't.

"I was too reckless!"

"Hawke… Oh Hawke." Merrill was wrapped around him now. "Please Hawke, lets get out of this place. I… I can't take it here anymore. Please. Take me home."

With a silent obedience, Hawke got back on his feet and wiped the tears from his eyes with the back of his dirty sleeve; leaving smudge stains on his face. He had to soldier on; there were still lives in his care down here and back on the surface. He would get them all home, safely, and grieve later.

"Let's go home." Hawke nodded to his gang and gave Merrill a reassuring squeeze.

They continued their path with a solemn silence. The air around them stirring with unknown quantities but no more Shades or Wraiths showed themselves. Perhaps they had given up on their desire to feast and kill; Hawke knew they would never be that lucky. Evil lives to do evil.

* * *

><p>"Did you get it?" Byron leaned forward over his desk, the call of seagulls drifting in through the open window behind him.<p>

"Some of it." Thorn deposited a tightly folded piece of parchment in front of the other man. "Evelyn's second thinks he caught me before I entered the house."

"She still believes you are double-crossing me and spying for her?"

"She gave that impression." Golden eyes blinked in the sunlight that blinded him, from the window, effectively silhouetting Byron in his chair. "I told her what you wanted. She seems… eager."

"I knew that would wet her appetite." Byron cackled, tugging a draw open and rifling inside his desk for a lumpy pouch of coins. "Take this. You look like shit."

"Hmmm. Thank you." Thorn growled as he swiped the loot towards him, dumping it with a swift motion of deft hands into a pocket. Much like a well-practiced pickpocket would.

"And of the other matter?"

"The 'King'?" Thorn ran his fingers through the wild mess of black and silver hair atop his head. "I have a lead. A man in the Undercity dealing in a colourful array of goods claims knowledge to a secondary source. A wine dealer."

"Tracing his majesty through his wine selection?" Byron hummed in good humour. "How delicious. Get to it and keep me informed."

"Yes, messere." He lowered his head in respect.

"And Thorn…"

"Yes?"

"I heard a rather interesting rumour the other day." Byron shifted in his seat, leaning back with his hands clasped in a tone of authority. "I am told you were seen not only rescuing some damsel in distress from a pack of hungry wolves but also disposing of the bodies and carrying the girl home to her mother." There was a silence between them that made Byron's brow furrow into curious craters. "Who is she to you?"

"No one."

"Strange how that no one happens to be working for the very same enemy you were just conferring with."

"A coincidence, obviously, messere."

"So you just happened to come upon such a distressing scene and decide to play the hero?" Byron was a fire with conspiracy. "You are not the type, Thorn."

"A moment of weakness." Thorn shrugged. "I am getting old. Perhaps I desire some good deeds to cherish in my twilight years."

"Ha ha!" Byron lost himself in the humour of the very notion. If Thorn was going soft there was no hope for any of them. "Perhaps I would have overlooked your heroic misdemeanors if it had not been for that girl stabbing me in the gut. I am not pleased. That bitch deserved whatever she had coming."

"You hired them?"

"Of course not." Byron waved him off, sighing woefully at not having thought of such retaliation first. "I prefer my revenge with a personal touch. Besides, the guard is too difficult to bribe now that that Aveline Valen woman is in control. It seems Lyn's girl upset that patrol all on her own. Doesn't surprise me. Have you heard the mouth on her?"


	19. Seashells

**Chapter 19: Seashells**

"I was talking to Lady Catherine yesterday and you know what she told me?" Juliannah giggled excitedly as she leaned in conspiratorially to Aeron's ear. The acoustics of the Chantry were really giving that laugh of hers a frightful boost. "You know the priest down there," she pointed out a man having an uncomfortable looking discussion with the Grand Cleric, head of Kirkwall's Chantry, "Sebastian Vael? Well she said that he's now the prince of Starkhaven!"

"Now?" Aeron creased her brow as she watched the unhappy looking priest from their vantage point on the top-level balcony.

"Well yes. It's really sad actually." She sighed woefully. "Oh it's just dreadful, it really is. The reigning prince, his wife and two elder sons were murdered. Can you believe that? Sebastian was the third son, I think. Oh can you imagine? Your entire family killed? I can't even… what he must be going through."

"Yes, messere." Aeron leaned a little further over the banister to let her arms dangle rather than get a better look. Juliannah instantly mistook this movement and followed suit to gawk, causing several men diligently praying below to stare up in heavenly wonder at the girl's cleavage now on display.

"Do you think… should I invite him for tea or send flowers or something?"

"He might appreciate that." Aeron shrugged, swaying her arms back and forth against the wood stone railings.

"I'm going to… I'm going to go and talk to him!" Juliannah suddenly stood bolt upright with a determined finger pointing up into the air. "I'll do it now… invite him for tea and… and give him my condolences."

"Yes, messere."

Aeron righted herself from her leaning position and followed after the excitable girl. Juliannah was wearing a horrid cream coloured Orlesian dress that flapped about after her and dragged across the ground from behind. It was a really annoying distraction that meant her guard had to keep a mind on her feet in case she stepped on the fabric and caused the big white ball of candyfloss to take a tumble.

As they reached the bottom of the stairs, soft-soled shoes and bare feet slipping silently across the tiled floor, Sebastian and the Grand Cleric appeared to end their conversation in amicable respect. The Grand Cleric departed the scene first with a nod and smile for the two women as she passed. She seemed like a nice old woman, even if Aeron didn't believe in all this Maker crap. As she turned her attention back to her charge, the lovesick pup was already set on a collision course with the priestly prince.

"Sebastian!" Juliannah smiled warmly as the dark haired, blue-eyed priest jumped at his name.

"Miss Juliannah, you are looking well." He smiled back, a slight twinkle in his eyes as he admired her dress and other assets with a new appreciation.

It wasn't so much that she'd lost weight but rather she had become more toned. That waist tighter, full round breasts perkier and those wide hips ripe and ready to bare strong healthy princes. What was he thinking? He was a priest, a man of the cloth! But still a man with eyes; Maker save him. As much as he wished she would stop wearing those finely fitted clothes with low-cut necklines he did on several occasions find himself thanking Andraste for the cleavage on display. It was like a shelf of jiggling pleasures he wished to dive into to enjoy all its splendours.

"I am so sorry to hear about your family." She captured him like a fly in honey with a consoling embrace. "If there is anything I can do…"

"That's very kind of you, miss Juliannah." Sebastian swallowed at the contact, several people giving him confused looks as he hugged her back. "But my family are at peace with the Maker now."

"Oh that's… that must be a comfort to you." Juliannah disentangled herself from him. "I mean, being a priest and all."

"Indeed it is. The Maker in his mercy does not turn his back on his most faithful." His smile sadly reached his eyes with a barely noticeable sigh. "Thankfully he does not allow those who harm his children to walk away freely either."

"Oh? Did he… did he smite them with lightening or something?"

"Nothing quite so grandiose I am afraid." Sebastian chuckled at the childlike wonder in her awestruck gaze. "The Maker left this world many centuries ago, Andraste his last true prophet and wife after his departure. He will not return to us until we, his children, have cleansed ourselves and this world of the corruption the mages inferred on the Makers city beyond the fade." He paused to shoot Aeron a disapproving look as she covered a snort of amusement. "The Maker may not have acted directly but I believe he played a part in guiding a, serah Hawke, to the defence of my families memory."

"Hawke? Do you mean Garrett?" Juliannah grinned.

"Yes, the very same. Do you know him?"

"Oh yes. Well, a little. I haven't seen him in some time though." She pouted. "I wanted to invite him to my birthday party a fortnight ago but he'd gone off on some deeproad's expedition or something looking for treasure. That does sound exciting though. I wonder if he's found any treasure?"

"Ah, I see." Sebastian smiled, though he seemed to be using the actions as a shield to hide his confusion or disappointment or something. "As for your birthday party. I am truly sorry I was unable to attend but I was in solitary prayer for several days before and after the date."

"No, no. I understand. It was fine." Juliannah shrugged, her fingers starting to pick at the fabric of her dress. "Plenty of people came." _No one but the staff came._ "I had a wonderful time." _She cried._ "And then mother bought me a puppy." _That immediately imprinted on a stuffed bear._

"I am pleased. Your charitable donations of time and coin are an inspiration among the nobles. You are certainly deserving of happiness." His priestly words instantly brought a rosy complexion back to her cheeks. "How old are you now, miss Juliannah?"

"Oh, nineteen."

_Nineteen_, Aeron mentally sighed the number. Had it really been that long? The seventeen-year-old virgin apple turnover she'd been forced to start guarding was now nineteen. Where had the time gone? A year and a half it must of been, half way through her indentured servitude, and a year since she met the Hawke's. Carver… Why could she not stop thinking about him? His taste, his feel; the way he would nibble on her neck just to make her giggle. She missed the sound of his voice, the warmth of his body, even just catching a glimpse of annoyance in his eyes when he thought about his brother.

"Serah, are you quite well?"

"What? Yes, I…" Aeron sucked in a deep breath before forcing it out through her nostrils to clear the dizziness she felt.

"You do look pale." Juliannah immediately started fussing.

"I…" Aeron leaned forward, clutching her sweat drenched head in one hand and her chest in the other. "I think I'm going to…" She immediately bee lined for the great Chantry doors, managing to skirt out into Hightown and spin around the corner before puking all over the feet of the Maker.

A sister stared in utter disbelief before dropping to her knees in speeding gibberish prayer. To her continued horror the blasphemy was not over though, as Aeron retched a second time before leaning her forehead against the cold metal statue with a groan.

"Aeron? Oh Aeron, are you all right? Ewww…" Juliannah instantly jumped back as the acidic stench of vomit wafted towards her nostrils. "Oh that's not good."

"I'm fine." Aeron stood back from the mess, giving the collection of sisters appearing to look at the mess an apologetic look. "Just ate something rotten." She cleared her throat, trying to swallow the bad taste away as she strolled away from the scene of the crime to her charge. "Much better now."

"Oh, that's good. I was worried for a moment there." Juliannah hummed a second before a face lit up in surprise. "Cullen!" She slipstreamed pass her guard to the curious Knight-Captain making his way up the Chantry steps.

"Lady Juliannah?"

"Oh Cullen, it has been too long since I last saw you." She slid her arm around his whilst he was distractedly watching several sisters pouring water to cleanse a statue of what looked to be puke. "And I never properly thanked you for rescuing me from those… those… thugs."

"It was my pleasure, my lady." He lifted his arm into a slight curve to allow her better comfort whilst attached to him and grinned to the Maker in the heavens. "But I am afraid I must leave you for now. I am here on Templar business and must see the Grand Cleric."

"Oh…" Juliannah was obviously disappointed. "But… but could you not come to tea afterwards? My home is not far from here."

"I, am sure you have more important guests to entertain than… than a, uh, that is to say I do not wish to keep you waiting on my behalf."

"Oh don't be silly." She giggled, slapping his arm playfully. "How long could you possibly be?"

"Well I… I will return shortly then." He disentangled himself from the excitable girl before bowing lightly and disappearing into the Chantry.

Juliannah watched the Templar leave with an admiring summarisation of his rear profile until he was hidden by the large doors. A number of wonderings filtered around in her skull as she chewed her lip, curling a tendril of hair with her finger and swayed over to her guard by the steps.

"Was he just blushing?"

"Yes, messere." Aeron confirmed.

"Was he blushing at me or because of me?"

"I don't think I understand the question."

"I mean… do you think… is the Knight-Captain…?" Juliannah trailed off, still watching the spot where he'd vanished. Aeron remaining quiet of her thoughts. "He is rather handsome isn't he? And… a Knight. That's so much better than a Prince. So heroic… You know, my father was a Templar."

* * *

><p>"GET BEHIND SOMETHING!" Anders screamed out as the mother of all rock wraiths shook violently with a building core of pure energy at its center.<p>

There was a scrambling of bodies as Hawke, Merrill, Varric and finally Anders got behind sturdy debris, pillars and crates. The smaller Wraiths immediately dashed towards their hiding places, eager to crush the intuders under their might but unlucky for them the mother ship decided to explode outward in a deafening rumble of primal magic. As the energy pulse moved outwards from its starting point it shattered the smaller Wraiths into piles of rock and burned the edges of the adventurers cover. But as quickly as it had begun, it was over.

Hawke was the first to emerge, panting and shaking furiously with a mixture of fatigue and adrenaline. He hopped over his debris shield, using his staff as a great walking stick to keep him steady as the others followed suit to investigate the rubble corpses scattered around the vault they stood within.

"Is it dead?" Merrill squeaked from behind Varric, the others looked from one to the other for answers.

"I don't know Daisy." Varric fiddled with Bianca in his hands, unsure of the present danger level. "But by my Ancestors I hope so."

"Maybe we should-" Hawke began, only to be cut off by the quaking of the ground.

Large, small, all shapes and sizes of rock and pebble skittered across the ground; drawing together as a great mound. The group watched in shocked awe as the giant Wraith re-formed into it's wicked shape and groaned out a call to arms. The smaller Wraiths began re-forming to, though decidedly reduced in number.

"Maker…" All the courage was knocked out of Anders, Justice having to take over for the mage before he did something embarrassing and pissed his pants.

"Have at it!" Hawke steeled his resolve, staff arcing left and right in threat as he goaded the great beast to take his challenge.

Varric dived back several paces to a safer location with enough range to begin a barrage of suppressive fire at the smaller rock Wraiths. Justice moved by the dwarf's side, he needed his strength to heal but had no plans to remain out of the fighting team. Even if it was only as a defensive player pushing back demons that got to close to Varric and himself.

Merrill was in an element of her own, using her affinity for primal magics to break pieces of the wraiths bodies from them and then send it back with extreme force. The smaller creatures were overwhelmed, beaten, punctured and pushed back until crumbling one by one; though they gave Merrill all the trouble they could barreling at her and forcing her to constantly remain on the move.

It was the mother that was the main issue however, but as long as the smaller ones kept out of the fight, Hawke at his peak of grief and fury was a force not to be reckoned with. He ducked a wide swipe from the giant Wraith sword like appendages, rolling to his left out of harm and back to his feet just in time to fit the creature directly in the centre with a fire spell. It staggered back, not liking the burning sensation, before rolling into a ball and spinning towards its enemy. Hawke spun behind a pillar made of pure lyrium, the Wraith colliding with it a moment later and bouncing back to the centre of the room. There was a scream, Merrill calling for the others to get to safety as Hawke peered around the pillar just in time to see the Wraith exploding in that deafening gurgle of energy once again.

He pulled back, squeezing his eyes tight as the light bounced off the walls almost blinded him at this close proximity. When it was over a second time, Hawke skirted his cover and came out firing wave after wave of fire spells before the thing even had a chance to reform. They could hear the Wraith screaming in burning agony; a strange tortured squawk of a noise that permeated every crevice of the deeproads. As it tried to stand again, building block boulders whipping into place, Hawke cried out in all his indignation hands raised to the roof as he made the very ground beneath it catch alight in burning flames. It stumbled uselessly left, right, backwards and forwards trying to escape the scorching ring of fire until an arrow raced through the air and lodged deep into the glowing center, the very heart of the beast, forcing it to fall quiet.

Hawke fell to his knees, sweat dripping in great dribbles down his forehead and over his chin to the parched ground below. He was exhausted but the thud, thud, crash, as the Wraith disintegrated in front of him was enough to spark a bout of heartfelt laughter from his chest.

"Daisy? DAISY!" Varric threw himself over debris that should have been way beyond his height to jump as he dashed towards the limp form lying on the ground. "Come on Daisy, don't do this to us. What would we do without you? BLONDIE GET OVER HERE!"

"Help me roll her." Anders, no longer Justice, slipped to his knees as he and the dwarf turned the lifeless elf onto her back with great care.

The healer concentrated, a blue glow coming off his hands as he moved them back and forth across their companion. Varric watched on in powerless incapability, moving the woman's head to rest comfortably in his lap. It was all he could do; he was no healer, just a merchant prince. Garrett was the next to their side, his concerned expression furrowed deeper as he mumbled words of prayer to the Maker. He couldn't lose another one; not another one on this journey.

"Blondie is she all right? Is Daisy going to be all right?" Varric's tone of pleading distracted the healer from his concentration. "You can fix this right?"

"She's going to be fine." Anders reassured with a tired smile. "There was some slight internal damage but I managed to correct that. She's just unconscious. Her mana is a little lower than I'd consider safe but with some rest and a good meal and we'll have her up and fighting darkspawn."

"Thank the Maker." Garrett sighed, leaning his weight against the wall.

"Screw the Maker!" Varric leaned forward, clapping the healer across the back. "Thank Blondie here. Remind me to buy you a drink when we get back to Kirkwall."

"I'll hold you too that." Anders grinned getting up and lifting the unconscious elf carefully over his shoulder. "Good thing it wasn't Hawke that got downed or there would have been no one with the strength to carry him."

"Are you saying I'm fat?" Hawke sniffed, displeased with the insult.

"No, you're just big boned." Anders chuckled.

"Hey, come and take a look at this!" Varric exclaimed, the others following the dwarf's path to a room full of shinnies.

"Oh sweet Andraste's full round buttox!" Hawke moved his clenched fist to his mouth and bit down to conceal the girlie squeal of pleasure trying to escape.

"That's a lot of gold." Anders agreed.

"Bartrand will be so jealous when he finds out about this." Varric moved forward, picking out the best pieces to take with them.

As they finally escaped the dwarven ruins, the mother Wraith having been guarding the exit, the quartet immediately began lugging their treasure and sleeping beauty of a comrade back into the Deeproads. There wasn't much darkspawn to deal with this far down and so close to a Wraith nest but there were still dangers a plenty. They were all tired, aching and hungry. With that in mind they set up camp for the night in a worn muddle of caves and began plotting tactics whilst Merrill continued to sleep off her ordeal.

It was decided, over a pot of horrendous tasting slime and mushroom soup, that they would follow a grey warden route back to the surface and hope to reach an opening four miles from Kirkwall. It seemed the safest option; they might at least be able to find refugee in the help of wardens along the route if attacked by darkspawn and at least the path should be mostly clear if the order regularly cleaned it out. It would mean a week and a half, maybe two weeks trek with little provision, however. They'd come this far; they would make it.

Plans decided Varric turned in for the night leaving Anders to tend the fire and Garrett keeping guard outside. He was distraught, tears constantly fighting to fall as he tried to hold in the grief of losing his mabari and accidentally killing Fenris. This was not how it was supposed to happen. It was supposed to be an easy moneymaker where everyone survived and they all went home rich and bragging. The Maker had an unamusing sense of humour. Everything had gone wrong. Their route blocked, darkspawn hordes, a dragon, demons and rocks wraiths, even betrayal and finally the death of their own. Bounce was such a good dog; he didn't deserve this. Fenris was all right too, maybe a bit of a prick and a drunk but he certainly didn't deserve going out like that. He could only imagine the elf's final thoughts, his hatred of mages hitting critical mass and with good bloody reason.

"Hawke?" Anders came up behind him, a hand resting comfortably on the other man's shoulder as he took the seat next to him. "How are you holding up?"

"Good." Hawke lied, wiping the tears that had managed to tumble from his lids and cascade in great streams down his cheek away. "Holding the line."

"You don't have to lie to me. I can see you are hurting."

"I'm…" He paused in order to heave out a heavy sigh, hands running back and forth through the hair on either side of his head. "Void take me. This was not suppose to happen. I… I've put you all in danger, killed two of you including my best friend and for what? Some gold and a few antiques? The guilt is killing me."

"Shhh." Anders hushed him, pulling the sniffling man into his embrace. "We all came here willingly. We knew the risks."

"Yes but… but…" Hawke looked up at him, eyes wide and wet with fear and sorrow.

Anders shushed him again like a mother would a child and leaned forward planting a delicate kiss upon his forehead. Garrett shook gently at the sensation but did not flinch away as a second kiss landed neatly on his nose followed by a third that found it's way ever so softly to his lips. There was a quiet rustle of clothing as the two men clung to one another, hands roaming under and over attire groping for another's contact. It was several tongue tasting minutes before their kiss finally parted and Garrett opened his eyes to his partner with an awkward confusion.

"What am I doing?" He pushed away from the healer, suddenly feeling dirty and wrong. "This is wrong!"

"Hawke, it's all right. We could die at any moment-"

"And I don't want my last moment to be gay!" Hawke was furious now but he wasn't quite sure why. "I… I can't do this. I'm sorry but I do not swing this way."

"Hawke-"

"Don't Hawke me in that tone!" Hawke was now pacing up and down his territory like an alpha male showing off to his females and warding off prospective challengers. "I am guarding this spot so you… go away and sleep."

"If that's what you want." Anders snorted at the ridiculousness of the man's behaviour. You didn't have to be gay to sleep with other men. Take him for instance; he was pansexual and going to bed to dream about whomever he wanted to.


End file.
